The Enemy of Souls
by Jaden Malfoy87
Summary: After an unexpected attack on Hogsmeade, Ginny Weasley is left with only grief as a remnant of war. But what she never anticipated was to find her will to live again in the form of a bawling, greyeyed baby the baby of Draco Malfoy. REVISED VERSION.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** It's all J.K. Rowling's, except for little William Malfoy who, most unfortunately, is not pink-haired.

Well, this is my first time posting on this site. If you've read this fic on Schnoogle, I want to make it clear that this is the promised revised version. So yes, there is a completed version of this fic on FA, but it is the original version that is not compliant with the coming sequel. After I finished posting the fic on FA, I decided to make some major plot changes, because there were going to be two sequels and the plot was a complicated mess. So, this is the REVISED VERSION of The Enemy of Souls.

Also, you may note that Draco and Ginny do not actually make an appearance in this short prologue. Just read it, grit your teeth and go on to Chapter One. What happens here sets the ground work for the rest of the fic.

**Prologue**

He couldn't believe that this was the last. By daybreak, he would be gone, possibly never to see any of it, never again. The waters were still in the summer's night. Muted starlight broke through the cloudy overcast to reflect off the shimmering black sheen of the lake. To his right, the towering stone castle, beautiful and imposing, rose into the cliff side and loomed over the stretch of lawn laid out before it. In the darkness, the castle seemed quiet and tranquil. Such an impressive aura should have calmed his spirits, but it only sunk them, lower and lower into the pit of gloom he'd come to recognize as normal.

The grief was such a part of him now that he barely noticed it clinging onto him. He'd come to accept that his life was simply doomed to be nothing more than a mass of pain and misery, that to hope for anything else was a waste of time.

Now, he only waited, left alone with his quiet grief and longing. Waiting for the last few moments of it all.

He wished he could have been spending these last moments with his friends, with Ron and Hermione. And Ginny... He couldn't help the hint of a smile at his lips when he thought of all the work Ginny had done the past year at Hogwarts. He couldn't help the pride that welled up inside of him when he thought of how far she'd come, reviving the D.A. in Dumbledore's name and recruiting new members. He hadn't entirely approved when he'd heard that she'd allowed some Slytherins in, but they'd proved useful and worthy when it really mattered. When the attack came, in Hogsmeade...

His throat tightened slightly at the thought of the battle, at the lives lost and his failure to finally finish Voldemort once and for all. He hadn't been ready, he'd still had one last Horcrux to find and destroy, but Voldemort, all too aware of this, had attacked and drawn him out before he could finish his search. Still, he'd done his best. Some were rejoicing, claiming he'd finished off the Dark Lord for the time being, but for him, it wasn't nearly over. And he wanted to stay, he wanted to stay and finish his work, but the risk, as Lupin had pointed out, was too great.

_"You need me, though," Harry had protested, anger lining his words. "I don't care what people are saying in the streets. Voldemort isn't gone, and you know that just as well as I do, so why-"_

"No, he is not gone." Lupin sighed, seeming even more weary than usual. "And you are right, the world's cause for celebration is sorely mistaken. We can hope that he is gone long enough that we won't have to trouble ourselves with him for some time, but Harry, this is nothing like the last time you defeated him. Even with him near death, we haven't got the upper hand. The Death Eaters-"

"Why would they continue- I mean, surely they'll be hiding out, laying low from the Ministry?" Harry reasoned, less angrily and more sensibly. 

"They've grown bolder these past few years," Lupin explained, "and some of them may even know Voldemort's whereabouts. Even if they don't, they are certainly planning to bring him back into power. The Death Eaters are more organized than they were after his last defeat. Voldemort saw to this himself when he was still in power. He learned from his mistakes the last time."

"I still don't see why-"

"Harry, surely you must realize," Lupin went on, his tone growing more urgent, "that even without him, the Death Eaters' main target will still be you. They will concentrate all their efforts on you, perhaps even more so, with Voldemort left weakened. They know they must fight to keep in power, and they will see you as their biggest threat to that power."

Harry crossed his arms over his chest. "I don't see how that's any different from the past year. The Death Eaters have always been after me-"

"The Death Eaters would not have dared to kill you," Lupin cut in. "That... privilege was left for Voldemort himself. But without his leadership, they will stop at nothing to ensure that you will no longer be a threat. You won't be safe anywhere."

Harry shook his head. "I still have one last Horcrux to destroy," he said quietly, looking at the ground.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. "Harry-" Lupin began.

"If I could just find it," Harry said angrily, his throat closing up, "then this will all be over. If I had already found it, then none of this-" He brought himself up abruptly, falling silent.

"I suppose," Lupin said kindly, "that it won't do much good to tell you, once again, that it was not your fault?"

Harry glanced up to look in him in the eye, but he didn't answer. Lupin offered him a smile.

"Well," he said softly, "guilt is not rational."

"Look," Harry began, putting these words behind him, "I just... I need to find that Horcrux. All right, Voldemort took me by surprise, attacking Hogsmeade as he did, but don't you see? I can't risk more of that, I have to-"

"What you have to do," Lupin said gently, "is lay low. Remain hidden, where the Death Eaters haven't a chance of finding you." 

Harry sighed, beginning to understand, but wishing he weren't. "I suppose Grimmauld Place isn't good enough?"

"Too many people would know."

Harry glanced up at these words. "Right. Because after Snape, no one can be trusted."

Lupin's jaw tightened. "I wish that trust was something we can afford, but you're right, it's not. That's a lesson we all learned the hard way." He sighed. "No, we must not take that risk. No one can know where you are except for you and one other person."

Harry was confused. "Me and one other..." His voice drifted off as it fell into place. "You mean to use the Fidelius Charm?"

Lupin nodded, looking as though he knew that Harry would not react well to this suggestion.

Harry fought back a grimace. "It's not foolproof," he said coolly, thinking of Sirius. "It didn't save my parents."

"No," Lupin agreed, "but we must trust that what happened between your parents and Sirius will not happen to you. Choose rationally, Harry. Think rationally."

Harry sighed. "I need Hermione for that," he muttered, more to himself than to Lupin. He glanced up, and found Lupin frowning thoughtfully at these words.

"As for Hermione..." he said quietly, sounding as though he were merely thinking aloud. "Well, she would be an obvious choice."

Harry looked at him sharply. "Too obvious, you mean?"

Lupin shrugged. "Perhaps," he said slowly. "Then again, choosing the obvious is something the enemy might not expect."

Harry sighed, biting his lip, caught in indecision.

"Think it over carefully, Harry," Lupin advised him.

Harry nodded absently. After a time, he glanced up. "I can help you," he said softly, a last plea to find some other way.

Lupin smiled sadly. "I need your help to defeat Voldemort, Harry."

"I can fight the Death Eaters-"

"Yes, you could," Lupin agreed, "but so can many others. Harry, it's too great a risk." Harry was slightly startled by the blatant need in Lupin's voice, a plea of his own, a plea for Harry to understand and accept.

And reluctantly, Harry had. And by the following morning, he'd found his Secret-Keeper, confronted the person, talked it over, and brought them with him to Lupin and Professor Flitwick, to perform the charm. And Lupin had simply smiled and said, "Excellent choice."

That had been just a few hours earlier that evening. Lupin had granted Harry a last wish, which was not to Portkey to his hidden place immediately, but to set the Portkey a few hours later. This gave him a bit more time to himself, wherever he wished, and he'd decided to spend his time at Hogwarts.

A rustling in the bushes behind him alerted him to another presence nearby. Harry, completely startled, turned and leapt to his feet, just in time to see a small, dark shadow sprint out from the foliage behind him. He reacted almost without thinking. "_Petrificus Totalus!_"

The shadow dodged his curse, however, so Harry resorted to a simpler method. With a quick burst of speed, he darted forward and quickly closed in on the intruder. Within seconds, he tackled the figure to the ground. It wasn't until he heard a high-pitched scream that he realized the intruder was a girl.

"What the-" he muttered, leaning back to a get a better glimpse of this girl. Some petite blonde, from what he could tell, and she looked vaguely... familiar-

"Daphne Greengrass," he realized. Shaking his head, he took her arm in a firm grip and hauled her to her feet.

"Ow, not so hard," she complained, trying to wriggle out of his hand, but he held her tight. "I know you're eager to get your hands on me, Potter, but let- _go_!"

"Not until you tell me why you were _spying_ on me," Harry replied, eyeing her suspiciously.

Harry didn't know very much about Daphne Greengrass, outside of the fact that she was a Slytherin girl, one of Pansy Parkinson's groupies who'd followed her around and mercilessly teased the rest of the student body all through school. He hadn't seen her since his sixth year, when he'd left school, although he'd heard a little bit about her from Ginny. She, like Parkinson, had been one of the students determined to hold themselves apart from those other Slytherins who had joined the D.A. _So definitely not an ally_, he thought.

"Don't flatter yourself, Potter." Greengrass laughed derisively, eyeing him with a vaguely amused expression. "I wasn't _spying_ on you."

"Then what in the world are you doing here?" Harry asked evenly.

"I could ask the same question of you," she said coolly, eyeing the Portkey in his hand.

Desperately, he shoved it behind his back, his mind scrambling for an excuse. "I was just... visiting-" He stopped abruptly at her skeptically raised eyebrow.

"Oh, don't be stupid," she scoffed. "Don't even try to cover it up. I know you're going into hiding, and I know-"

"Keep your voice down!"

"I'm nearly whispering!" she shot back.

Harry shook his head at her. "How in the world did you find out?"

"That doesn't matter," she replied. "Suffice it to say, I have my ways. When does that Portkey leave, anyway?"

Harry, still slightly disturbed that someone had discovered his secret so easily, shook his head again. "Why do you care to know?" he demanded. His eyes narrowed. "Are you reporting to someone, Greengrass?"

"Don't be stupid," she repeated, but she shifted nervously in his grip. "Of course not. Don't be so dramatic."

"Then _why_ are you _here?_" Harry was becoming more and more aggravated by the minute. He didn't have time for this. The Portkey would be leaving soon, and he couldn't afford to have someone running off to tell anyone-

Greengrass sighed heavily, rolling her eyes at him. "In case you've forgotten, Potter, _some_ of us still have school."

"Now _you're_ being stupid," he shot back. "I know the school's been shut down 'til next week. I was, actually, you know, _at_ the battle in Hogsmeade-"

"I know that," Greengrass snapped. "Doesn't explain why you're here."

"Or you either," Harry shot back.

For a moment, they fell silent, and stared at each other with equal expressions of distaste. Then the Portkey in his hand began to glow, signaling that its time to transport was near.

Greengrass smirked, glancing at the Portkey. "Well, it seems you haven't much time left, Potter. Now if you'll just- let me _go_-"

"Greengrass-"

"Of course, your little hide-out plans aren't so secret anymore." She smiled sweetly, fluttering her eyelashes at him. "I could tell whoever I'd like, couldn't I? Unless you'd like to postpone your trip-" 

"Daphne," he cut in, his voice laced with irritation, "please. Please, don't do this-"

"Oh, don't give me that piffle," she said scornfully. "Face it, Potter, your getaway plans are ruined. You _could_ stay and try to stop me, but from what I hear, Death Eaters are looking for you everywhere." She glanced around behind her, as though she expected to find a group of Voldemort's followers closing in around them. "So I don't know that you'd want to take that risk."

Harry froze at her words, nearly releasing her from his grip in surprise. He likewise glanced around them, growing even more suspicious. "Who the hell are you working for?" he demanded. "_Why_ are you here? Who sent you?"

"I told you, no one _sent_ me." She stared at him with that infuriatingly knowing gaze, her brown eyes sparkling. "Course, you don't know that for sure, do you?"

The Portkey was going to leave any second. Harry was growing desperate. He didn't have time for this, but he couldn't let her go, not now. She knew too much.

Greengrass gave one last, insistent tug at his hand, trying to get away. "Guess you'll just have to let me _go_, Potter-"

"Guess you'll just have to come with _me_, Greengrass," Harry shot back.

Her eyes widened in panic. "What? No! Let me _go_, Potter, damn it, let me-"

But Harry's mind was made up. Determined, he yanked the hand he was holding towards his own grip. She shrieked and squirmed, but he forced her hand on the Portkey, and a second later, they were gone.


	2. Chapter One

**Disclaimer:** It's all J.K. Rowling's, except for little William Malfoy who, most unfortunately, is not pink-haired.

Again, this is the REVISED version of this fic. It was originally posted on FA.

Also, I forgot to mention in the prologue something I'd like to clear up, because I know it caused some confusion in the past- the battle at Hogsmeade, which happened five years prior to the start of this story (at the end of what would have been Harry's seventh year of school) is **not** the battle referenced at the end of the summary, the 'wreckage of battle' where Ginny supposedly finds a baby. That battle has yet to take place. 

**Chapter One**

_August, 2004_

It was dark and damp all around, and it left her feeling as though she were being smothered, suffocated, trapped. The cloying stink of blood filled her nostrils, and it was so dead quiet that she thought, for a single second, that maybe she was _dead._

The massive snake was sprawled across the stone cold floor. Then Harry was there, looking as though he'd just been to hell and back, and then everything that had happened began to sink in and she started to cry. The tears blurred her vision; she blinked furiously, and when she could see clearly once again, the room before her had brightened. Absently, she reached up to wipe the tears from her eyes, but her hand stopped halfway- had she been crying? No, she was here... her mind was groggy; she'd just woken from... what?

Her memory of the recent events came flooding back quickly- the last thing she remembered was the flash of red light from an attacking Death Eater as she sat, helplessly collapsed upon the ground. And Ron... where was Ron? Those brains were suffocating him; she had to help him...

Suddenly, time seemed to speed up, and she couldn't keep track of what was happening... Harry was racing past her, chasing after... who? Ron, where was Ron... and then-

Ginny blinked. "Professor Lupin?"

"Are you hurt, Ginny?" he asked kindly. In spite of any gentility in his voice, there was an odd look around his eyes, as though the mere act of thinking pained him.

"No, it's just my ankle... where's Ron? Those things were strangling him, is he-"

"He's fine now, Ginny, waiting to be taken back to Hogwarts once we've got the rest of you rounded up," Lupin explained. "Can you walk?"

"Er... sort of..." Slowly, Lupin helped her get her footing, and he'd just begun leading her to one of the doorways, taking her by the arm, when she remembered. Harry.   
"Professor," she asked, "where's Harry gone?"

Something in Lupin's expression closed off, and that odd look about his eyes intensified so much that she suddenly recognized it for what it was. Grief. Agony. Sorrow. Before he could answer, she grew fearful. "Professor, is Harry all right?"

"I think he... should be," Lupin replied. "Dumbledore's gone after him-"

"But where did he go?" she demanded. "He ran through here, he was chasing after..." 

Lupin swallowed. "Bellatrix Lestrange," he filled in.

"Yes! Yes, her... but where's he gone, why was he chasing her?" When Lupin didn't answer right away, she persisted, though in a very small voice, "Professor?"

Still, there was a moment's silence, and then he said, very softly, "She killed him."

Ginny was shocked, and slightly bewildered. "Harry?"

"No." Lupin shook his head and cleared his throat, though when he spoke, his voice still sounded hoarse. "Sirius."

Ginny stopped moving, dragging Lupin to a halt as well. She stared at him, thinking she couldn't possibly have heard him right, that Sirius could not possibly be dead... he was Sirius_, after all, he couldn't be... he wasn't..._

"Come, Ginny." Ginny started as Lupin began leading her along once again, and she was surprised when her eyes began to burn with unbidden tears. Her vision blurred.

Again, once her surroundings came back into focus, she found them changed. She blinked into the stunning sunlight and glanced around to find herself in the streets of Hogsmeade. She felt just a bit odd, as though she should feel sad over something, but she shook that sentiment away. What could possibly be wrong here, and now, on a day like this?

"Something wrong?"

Ginny glanced up into his dark eyes. So beautiful. So captivating. "No." She shook her head. "Just... spaced out for a minute. Are you planning on eating that, or were you going to give it to me?" she asked innocently, indicating the untouched stick of candy in his hand.

His brow furrowed, as though he were puzzled. "Now why on earth," he wondered in mock amazement, "would I buy anything for you?"

She grinned playfully and reached for the candy, but he swung his arm around and away from her, dodging her attempt. "I dunno," she said with a shrug. "Maybe because you... like me... just a little?"

He seemed to think about this for a second, and then shook his head, reaching up to bite off the first piece of the candy. "No, I don't think so."

She swatted him on the arm, and he grinned, dropping his hand. "Well, maybe just a little," he conceded, handing the candy over.

And then the day turned dark... and the air around her was filled with terrified screams... and suddenly, death filled the streets of Hogsmeade.

Confusion everywhere... someone was yanking her out of the way, distantly, she thought to reach for her wand-

"Ginny, move!" There was a sudden flash of green light, shouted words that sent a chill down her spine, and for a split second in time, she knew for sure she was going to die-

Then a flash of red hair, flying in front of her, and in the next instant, she stared down in numb shock at the body of her brother Percy.

"Ginny, come on, we need to get out of here-," Someone was still tugging at her arm, but she only stared. "Percy?" she whispered.

"Gin, c'mon, now-" Before she could try to stop him, he was pulling her down the street, turning a corner, dragging her away from it all-

They stopped short of running into a Death Eater. Ginny only had time to blink before the masked man facing her raised his wand and shot a jet of red light at her, but at the same time, a shouted, "Protego!" came from right beside her, and the two curses seemed to hit at once. Intense pain exploded within Ginny's chest, and though the shield seemed to have done some good as well, her legs gave way and she fell to the ground, the breath knocked out of her. Her head hit the street, her eyes fluttered-

"Gin-"

That was the last word she heard from his mouth. Her vision blurred, her eyes nearly shut; she wasn't sure whether or not she imagined the next flash of green light, the deadly, shouted words of the killing curse, and then his body, slipping onto the ground beside her...

Ginny gasped and jerked beneath her tangle of sheets. Her breathing came short and it took her a moment to remember where she was. It had all come back so vividly... Trembling slightly, she pushed herself up with one hand and was surprised to find her cheeks wet with tears.

Wiping her face, she shoved all the covers aside and shakily got to her feet, taking a deep breath to calm herself. Slowly, she made her way down to the kitchen and pushed open the door, peering through the darkness.

"All right there, Gin?"

Ginny started, whirling around to face the source of the voice. "Bill! I didn't see you there." Curiously, she made her way over towards him, where he sat at the table with a book in his hand and a glass of milk in the other. "What are you doing here so..." She glanced out the window, and found the very tip of the sun peeking over the horizon. "So early?"

"I could ask you that." He gave her a nod of his head with a hint of a smile. Ginny wasn't known for an early riser. "No, I have an early shift this morning and I thought I'd stop by here for breakfast. Mum's been complaining that she hasn't seen much of me lately." He took a sip of his milk. "What about you? Early work shift as well? I thought you mostly work nights now."

Ginny sighed and nodded. "Yeah, mostly I do. I just got off a few hours ago. But I... just couldn't sleep." Feeling strangely tremulous, she went to get her own glass of milk before joining him at the table.

He regarded her silently for a moment, and then asked quietly, "Bad dreams?"

"Sort of," she said evasively.

He didn't press. "So how is work, then?" he inquired.

She shrugged. "All right." After a moment's hesitation, she confessed, "Not so good."

His brow furrowed in a frown. "Why not? Difficult cases?"

"No." She shook her head, smiling bitterly. "It's not the cases assigned to me that are the trouble."

Suddenly understanding, Bill spared her a sympathetic smile. "Ah. Well, it'll turn out all right-"

"My boss doesn't seem to think so," she noted dryly. "He brought me into his office the other day. He's... _concerned_ that I'm spending too much of my time on an 'insignificant' case." She took a big gulp of milk.

"Well, don't listen to him," Bill joked.

"I dunno." Ginny stared into her glass of milk. "Maybe I should. Maybe I should just give it up."

"Ginny-"

"It's not like-" She swallowed. "It's not like I don't already know that he's dead."

Bill watched her intently. "Ginny," he said gently, "you were unconscious. You were already down. You don't know that he's-"

"I heard the curse," Ginny whispered. "I saw- green light. I know-"

"You _think_ you heard, you _think_ you saw," Bill reminded her. "They never found his body, Gin. I think there's a good chance he's out there somewhere."

"Maybe." Ginny shrugged. "All I know is, my boss isn't happy-"

"Forget about him." Bill waved a dismissive hand. "What about you?"

She stared at the tabletop. "I'll be fine," she said dully.

"Gin-"

"I think I'll go back to bed," she said abruptly, getting to her feet.

She knew that anyone else, especially in her family, would have pushed her to sit back down, forced her to talk it over, but Bill only gave her a knowing smile. "All right, then. G'night, Gin." 

- - - - -

Carina shoved the door open violently and strode inside. Facing the man seated before her, she stopped abruptly and crossed her arms over her chest, more to keep her hands from flying around in an enraged frenzy than anything else.

Lupin took one look at her scowling face and smiled pleasantly. "It went well, I take it?" he asked, sounding amused.

"That man," Carina snapped, "is a complete _prick_."

Lupin dipped his quill into an inkpot and put the tip to parchment. "Well, he is a Malfoy, after all," he reminded her. Really, Carina felt that he seemed to be enjoying her irritation far too much.

"I knew him at school," she pointed out. "A bit, anyway, and he wasn't _that_ bad. You'd think that he would have matured a little, not gotten worse."

Lupin glanced up with a raised eyebrow, a skeptical smile on his face. Carina sighed hugely, falling into an armchair. "Or not."

Lupin cleared his throat tactfully, wiping any trace of mirth from his face. "Is this going to be too difficult for you, then?" he asked mildly.

"No," she replied, almost mechanically, as though the idea of failure had not even occurred to her. "I can do it. I will." Anxiously, she began fiddling with her nails. "It's just going to be slightly more difficult than I thought. He wasn't completely receptive of me."

"Well, he was just released from prison a few months ago," Lupin admitted, sitting back in his chair. "He got off easy- only five years- but still, I'm sure it was no picnic in the park. Perhaps you should just give it some time. Be patient."

Carina sighed, throwing her hands in the air. "Why _me?_" she demanded crossly.

Lupin shrugged. "Unfortunately, without Snape-" His mouth twisted bitterly, "we don't have much to go on, when it comes to Draco Malfoy. Tonks gave us as best an assessment as she could, and in the end, we concluded that you seemed best suited for this job. You're a pureblood, and your family has been known to support Voldemort in the past. And, of course, you are one of the few of us who was _not_ a Gryffindor-" Lupin smiled in amusement, "which is essential, I'm sure, when it comes to any Malfoy."

Carina carefully examined a breaking nail. "What if he doesn't know anything?" she asked. "What if he knows nothing about Lucius's whereabouts? Or anyone else, for that matter. You yourself said it, he was only released from prison a few months ago. Besides, I'd imagine most of the Death Eaters aren't too happy with him, otherwise, they would have gotten him out of prison the same time Lucius escaped. Clearly, he isn't in the loop."

"No, I imagine they aren't, as a whole, very happy with him," Lupin agreed with a sigh. "But he is Lucius' son, and I don't doubt that Lucius contacted him as soon as he was released from prison. To make sure that Draco is safe, if nothing else. Besides-" Lupin rubbed his temple, suddenly looking very weary, "I know you understand, Carina, that a wasted effort is better than risking the alternative."

Carina pursed her lips, clenching her hands together in her lap. "Yes," she said tightly, "I do." She got to her feet and said resolutely, "I'll have a date with him by next week."

Lupin smiled at her new resolve. "Excellent. And thank you again for doing this, Carina. I know it is extremely difficult to put up with him."

Nearly a week later found Carina sitting with Draco Malfoy in an expensive restaurant just outside Diagon Alley, biting her tongue in an attempt to keep from yawning in her date's face. She was fairly certain that her smile was now so pasted onto her lips that even if she tried, she wouldn't be able to remove it. He'd been droning on about his new job in the Department of International Magical Cooperation for the past thirty minutes now, his new job which, he was very proud to have secured, so soon after being released from prison. But in spite of how determined she'd been to get a date with him- as was required of her- she couldn't help but direly wish that she had not happened upon Malfoy just as he was having a rather heated argument with Pansy Parkinson, and therefore, had unintentionally supplied herself as a perfect way to make Pansy jealous.

"-and really, the position is fairly good," Malfoy went on, "considering it's a job I've only just secured after being released-"

_Only because it was all bought for you_, she thought in disgust. A former Death Eater notwithstanding, Carina was sure the Ministry hadn't forgotten all those considerably large donations Lucius had made. _The Malfoy name may not count for much anymore, but Malfoy money certainly does._

"-though I must say," Malfoy was saying, "it really can be terribly boring."

_You think?_ Carina thought sourly.

He actually fell silent for a second before adding longingly, "If I could, I'd like to change departments. Change jobs entirely."

Carina looked at him in surprise, and seized upon the subject before he could keep talking. "What would you rather be doing?" she asked.

He actually hesitated, which in itself looked odd for him, before admitting, "I'd really like to do something with Quidditch."

Carina eyed him appraisingly for a moment before leaning back in her chair with a single nod of her head. "You were an excellent Seeker back in school," she said truthfully.

Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "Potter-"

"Don't even mention Potter," Carina cut in. "He was good too, but that's not the point, is it? Potter and Gryffindor aside, you won almost every game for Slytherin, didn't you? Maybe lost to Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, what, once in the entire five years you played on the team?"

"Something like that," Malfoy agreed slowly.

"So you could play," Carina told him, "if you put yourself out there."

Malfoy seemed to be considering these words for a few moments. There was an oddly wistful look in his eyes before he shook his head, and then it was gone. "My father wants me in the Ministry," he muttered.

Carina hoped she didn't visibly jump at the mention of his father, and she tried to play it off nonchalantly. If she pressed, it might look suspicious. "Oh?" she prompted casually.

"I don't know that he would even approve of me working in the Department of Magical Games and Sports," Malfoy went on sourly.

Carina waited, but nothing else came, so she swallowed and decided to risk it. "Well, I don't see why you need to worry, then. He can't do anything about it now, can he?" she said innocently.

Maybe too innocently. Malfoy's eyes snapped up and narrowed as he stared into her face, which she kept painfully blank and oblivious. After a moment of scrutiny, he glanced away, shaking his head. "You'd be surprised," he muttered. Before she could even decide if she should risk pressing further, he turned the tables, after calling for more wine. "So what about you? You work in St. Mungo's, don't you?"

"I've just finished training to be a Healer," Carina replied, and was forced, from there, to elaborate on herself. To try and steer the conversation back to Lucius would be far too obvious.

It grew dark and dim outside as the evening hours waned, and Malfoy consumed more and more wine. Carina allowed herself perhaps a bit more than she probably should have had, but as long as she kept a close check on her tongue and didn't let her true intentions slip- which, she figured, she'd have to be extremely drunk to do- the situation was still in her control.

Malfoy, however, was fairly far-gone when they finally rose from the table, late into the night. He swayed slightly as he tossed a few Galleons down onto the table, and then he and Carina staggered out of the restaurant, onto the dark street.

Malfoy squinted down the street and casually slung an arm around Carina's shoulders. "Where to now, love?" he asked, blinking a few times as he steered her forward a couple of drunken steps.

"Wherever," Carina said indifferently. Strangely, she found she was not as tempted to say 'Home' as she might have been a couple hours ago; all the wine seemed to have settled into a warm lump in the pit of her stomach and any tense anxieties she might have had seemed to have dissipated into the air. She found a smile playing upon her lips, so aware of Malfoy's warm, comforting body so close to hers.

Malfoy seemed to be considering the options, and finally pronounced, "It's late. Everything might be closing." Before Carina could answer, he swung his head around to face her, leaning in close until his lips brushed her ear as he spoke. "Come home with me," he murmured. It was a request, though spoken as a statement.

Carina only hesitated for a second. She was, after all, supposed to be doing all that she could to get close to Malfoy... with that in mind, any other reservations she might have had about going home, late at night, slightly drunk, and on a first date with Draco Malfoy were whisked away.

"Okay," she agreed, and a moment later, they Apparated to Malfoy Manor. 

- - - -

_October, 2004_

"Well, James-" Ginny smiled broadly at the baby in her arms, "if you're a very good boy for the Healer, then you and I can go out afterwards and spend the whole day together."

James gurgled in response, and Ginny giggled. She absolutely adored her two-month old nephew, George's son, and was only too happy to take him for his check-up at St. Mungo's. George's wife, Diana, was meeting them there, after running a few emergency errands in the morning, and George hadn't been able to make it because Fred had taken ill overnight, so George had to open the shop for the day.

A part of her was relieved to be free of her family for the day, and though she felt a bit guilty over that, she wasn't going to try and deny it. Since the battle in Hogsmeade five years ago, they'd begun to hover over her like mother hens, and they hadn't let up one bit. She felt suffocated by their constant concern, always demanding, taking in her air until she felt she had none left with which to breathe. Of her parents and five remaining brothers, Bill alone understood when she needed space, and listened attentively when she needed to speak (and those times only came willingly with Bill). Charlie, still in Romania, had written her more letters in the past five years than he ever had since he'd moved from home. Fred and George were over more often with their offers to take her out, especially to join them in their store for a bit. And Ron. Ron, she reflected sourly, was probably the worst. His concern infuriated her; why should he care for her loss when he'd protested so fervently against the attachment she'd formed?

It really was her own fault, anyway. She had enough money by now that she could buy her own flat, and move out of the Burrow, but she'd been putting it off for the past two years. Perhaps, subconsciously, she really was more grateful for her family's attention than she thought she was. Perhaps, even though she detested their constant worrying, in the end, she just didn't want to be alone.

She'd certainly been very relieved to return to school for her seventh year, after the attack on Hogsmeade the previous spring. That summer with her family had been absolutely unbearable. Of course, school hadn't turned out much better. She received the same sort of treatment from her friends that she'd received from her family all summer long, and when she wasn't dealing with them, she was forced to deal with... life, and all the complications it entailed. Getting through each day had been an enormous, impossible feat, especially when she thought of all the time she had in front of her. And school... well, school was a constant reminder of how much everything had changed, at school, where every corner of every room brought back memories of him, and served as a gnashing reminder that she would no longer spend those days with him.

She'd begun training to become an Auror after school, which she was beginning to think had been something of a mistake. It gave her the perfect opportunity to search for some trace of him, to keep some hope alive that maybe he wasn't dead. Perhaps, if she didn't have the resources to look, she would have been able to put it to rest, and just accept that he was really gone.

Taking a deep breath, she put all that behind her and tried to focus on the baby boy in her arms. She checked him in with the witch at the front desk of St. Mungo's without any trouble, and settled down in the waiting area for a nurse. Diana arrived a few minutes later.

"Whew! Oh, Gin, thanks so much for bringing him." Beaming, Diana took her son from Ginny, sinking into a chair beside her. "When George said he was going to have to run the shop today, I thought I'd have to postpone going by Gringott's-"

"Oh, it's fine." Ginny cut her off with a smile. "I was free for the morning, and I absolutely adore-" She frowned as her eyes caught the back glimpse of someone lurching into the stairwell, the door slamming shut behind him. She blinked, as though to clear her mind. That almost looked like-

"Ginny?" Diana let out an uncertain laugh, bringing her attention back around. "Is everything okay?"

"Oh- yeah, I'm fine." Ginny forced a smile, still distracted. "Sorry, I just... spaced out a little." She glanced out of the corner of her eye, as though to see the stairwell behind her. "Erm, listen, I really want to catch up with you, but I need to run a quick errand here in the hospital- do you want to meet up here after James's checkup, and we can go for lunch somewhere?"

"Sure, Ginny, that sounds fine." Diana smiled, but she still looked a little wary. "There's plenty of time, the nurse told me they were running a bit late. But what-"

"Sorry, got to run." Leaving her sister-in-law behind, Ginny hurried past the nurse's station and pushed open the door to the back stairwell. She stopped short, just inside, and glanced around with a furrowed brow. Huh. The stairs seemed empty. Leaning over the railing, she peered up between the staircase, and then turned her gaze below her. No one, not a trace. She was just about to turn back and join Diana when something black caught her eye, just as she was pulling back from the railing. Something black... like black robes... Her eyes widened. Was that a person lying on the landing below her?

Her curiosity piqued, she practically leapt down the stairs, her legs nearly flying out beneath her as she rounded the corner. She came to an abrupt halt a few steps from the following landing, stopping herself just short of a gasp. The black-robed man had propped himself up on his elbows, sitting hunched with his back to her. And he was- no. Surely it couldn't be-

"_Malfoy?_" Ginny stumbled down the last couple of steps, automatically taking her wand from inside her pocket as she approached him. Her eyes widened when she spotted blood staining the ripped fabric of his robes down his back, and she couldn't say that she was entirely prepared when his head rolled around unsteadily and his gaze settled on her face.

His eyes, slightly unfocused, narrowed in puzzlement, as though he couldn't make out who she was. She was just about to demand as to what had happened to him, when his eyes widened slightly in recognition.

"Weasley?" Her name slipped from his lips in a slurred mumble, and then quite suddenly, his eyes rolled up in the back of his head and he slumped sideways, his arms giving out beneath him as he sprawled before her in an unconscious heap.

For a moment, Ginny could only gape. Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. She knew he'd been released from prison- the Order had someone spying on him, in fact- but she hadn't actually laid eyes on him since the end of her fifth year. Since... the night Dumbledore had died.

She clenched her teeth against her own volition. The night Dumbledore was murdered by a Death Eater. The night Bill was mauled and irrevocably scarred by a Death Eater. The night Draco Malfoy _let such Death Eaters into the school._

He was a Death Eater himself, of course. Ginny's eyes strayed to his left arm, but his robes covered the telltale mark. He'd spent the last five years in prison atoning for his crimes, but Ginny didn't feel five years was nearly long enough.

They'd let him off easy, from what she'd heard, on account of his youth and the excuse that he was 'a product of his unfortunate environment.' And besides, they hadn't hard evidence for half the crimes he'd actually committed. As far as Ginny was concerned, that meant he'd only half paid for what he'd done. _That_ meant she could turn her back on him right this instant and leave him dying on the stairwell landing...

Ginny sighed. "Oh, damn," she whispered, dubiously squatting down to the ground beside Malfoy. She couldn't leave him to die. That made her no better than him and his lot, no better than some common murderer.

None too gently, she prodded him with a finger. "Malfoy?" she asked, a bit irritated that she'd stumbled into this mess. "Malfoy? Hello? Are you..." She wrinkled her nose, "...all right?"

Quite obviously, however, he was not all right. Grumbling to herself, she straightened upright and glanced around. "Hello?" she called out, pushing open the door to the main floor. The hall before her seemed surprisingly empty. "Hello? Help?" she called, just a bit desperately. She glanced back down at Malfoy. For a moment, she considered just leaving him there, turning her back on him, and walking straight back up to her baby nephew with none the wiser.

It only took that moment, however, for her to dismiss this idea. She stared at him, thoroughly disgruntled that he had put her in this situation. She wanted to leave him. She wanted to leave him, right there, right now, but all she could think was how Harry had told her what he'd seen from Malfoy, up in the tower where Dumbledore had died. How he'd been so desperate to save his family, how he'd been ready to drop his wand and give in, how he simply wasn't a killer...

Ginny sighed. He _was_ a horrible, insufferable, evil Death Eater of a git, but if she just left him there, he might die. Besides, who knew what had happened to him? It certainly was curious, him injured like this. With these thoughts in mind, she bent down, grasped him by the shoulders, and lifted him up. At least, that's what she attempted to do. However, with a small grunt, she got no further than lifting his shoulders up off the ground before dropping him altogether.

"You're always so much trouble, aren't you, Malfoy?" she murmured, staring at him in complete consternation. "Even completely oblivious to it all, you cause so much trouble."

The door to the stairwell swung open, startling her completely, and a nurse stuck her head out from behind the doorframe. "Hello, did I hear someone call for- oh!" The nurse's eyes widened as she caught sight of Malfoy. "Dear Merlin, what happened?" she demanded, hurrying to his side.

Ginny shrugged. "I'm not really sure- I just found him like this."

"Oh, dear." Pursing her lips, the nurse waved her wand at Malfoy's body and said, "_Mobilicorpus!_" Instantly, Malfoy's body rose into the air and hovered there. Nodding in satisfaction, she turned, keeping her wand upon Malfoy, and waved a busy hand at Ginny. "Could you get the door, there, please?"

Ginny pushed open the door, watching with a narrowed gaze as Malfoy floated past her. She really was very curious to know what had happened to him, and really, she reasoned, it was her job to investigate such things. With that decided, she hurried after the unconscious Malfoy and the nurse, who was soon joined by a Healer.

About thirty minutes and a quick examination later found Malfoy laid flat on a bed on the fourth floor, for spell damage, as the Healer determined his wounds were the result of some spell or curse. Ginny had surreptitiously followed Malfoy and the Healer around the hospital, and once he was resting in his bed, back and torso bandaged, she crept into his room, unnoticed by the nurses. She wasn't exactly sure why she felt this need for secrecy- even though he probably wasn't allowed any visitors excepting family, she could be granted access to him on account of being an Auror. But for some reason, she wanted this visit off the record and kept to herself.

She was shutting the door behind her when a voice in the room asked, "Can I help you, miss?"

Ginny whirled around to find the nurse who had helped her in the stairwell eyeing her expectantly. She bit her lip on a curse; she hadn't realized anyone was still in the room. "Oh, er- I just wanted to sit with him?"

By the look on her face, the nurse wasn't very keen on this idea. Before she could object, Ginny quickly said, "Please, just until he wakes up? I'm... worried about him," she ended lamely, sounding terribly unconvincing.

The nurse watched her for a moment, but then she nodded. "All right, just be careful about him, please." She shut the cabinet she'd been rooting around in, turned away, and left the room.

Glancing around hesitantly, Ginny found a chair and drew it up to Malfoy's bedside. From there, she watched him uneasily. Truthfully, of course, she wasn't the slightest bit worried about him, but the Order had spies on him for a reason, and his unexplained injuries were certainly cause for suspicion.

When Malfoy finally stirred and blinked his eyes open, Ginny was waiting patiently with as pleasant a smile as she could muster on her face, though she feared it was more of a grimace. His eyes, once cleared of their groggy uncertainty, sought her face.

"Hello," she greeted him, just a slight edge to her tone.

He blinked a few times, as though he could not quite believe what he was seeing. Then, "You know you've died and gone to hell," he said, his voice a bit hoarse, "when the first thing you see when you open your eyes is a redheaded Weasley."

She pursed her lips, stifling the instant surge of angry frustration at his jibe. "Are there non-redheaded Weasleys?" she asked in reply, struggling to keep her voice civil.

Malfoy's eyes narrowed slightly and he eyed her coolly before glancing around. "Where in Merlin's name am I?" he muttered.

"Where does it look like, you silly twit?" Ginny demanded in exasperation. "The hospital, of course. Which makes sense, considering you were lurking around in the stairwell with your back torn open."

His eyes narrowed further. "I wasn't lurking," he informed her, struggling to push himself upright. Halfway through, he tensed and promptly collapsed back from his elbows, letting out a yelp of pain. "Bloody hell!" he exclaimed. "I'm dying!"

"If only," Ginny snapped. "Though I wouldn't recommend that again, if I were you. Anyway, you were, weren't you? Lurking, I mean?"

Malfoy eyed her sourly. "No," he answered, "I was not 'lurking,' as you put it."

She leaned forward impatiently. "Then what were you doing?"

Malfoy smirked. "Wouldn't you like to know, Weasley. I suppose that's what you're doing here, is it?"

"I'm here on my own business, Malfoy."

"Right," he agreed, "and that business includes checking up on random patients, torturing them with your annoying questions for fun. Well, I suppose I wouldn't expect much else from a Weasley."

Ginny sighed. "I rather thought you might have outgrown all that silly nonsense," she said in a bored voice. "I suppose I should've known better. After all, at- what?- forty years of age, your father was still making immature jibes at my father in a public bookshop."

Malfoy scowled. "Go away, Weasley."

"But you haven't answered my question."

"Do you _really_ expect me to?"

"You might," Ginny said quietly. "As a favor."

Malfoy's eyes narrowed again, though this time, in scrutiny rather than annoyance. She was surprised when, as was shown by his next words, he understood her hidden meaning. "I never much liked him to begin with, Weasley," he said bluntly, "and I lost even more respect for him when I heard he was dating you."

"You liked him," she accused.

"And how would you know?" he demanded.

"You talked to him."

"Well, Merlin, Weasley, I'm talking to you. Doesn't mean I suddenly want to jump into bed with you, does it?"

"Erm- no," she replied, slightly unnerved by this analogy, "and I'd be a bit disturbed if you'd ever wanted to jump into bed with him."

Malfoy closed his eyes and leaned his head back, as though suddenly tired. "So would I, Weasley. So would I."

"You only didn't like him because he didn't worship the ground you walked on, and because he didn't buy into all that piffle from You-Know-Who, like you did," Ginny shot at him, "and because he was pureblood, but he deigned to date a blood traitor like me. _That_ drove you mad, didn't it, Malfoy?"

"You don't know me, Weasley," Malfoy said harshly, "so stop talking as though you do. In fact, stop talking entirely and leave me alone."

She was suddenly quite angry with him for the simple reason that he was who he was. She suddenly couldn't stand to look at him and bear the fact that this waste of a human being was still living and breathing when _he_ was not. Furiously, she got to her feet and made as though to storm out.

Halfway to the door, however, she paused and turned back. "Malfoy," she said in exasperation, "what in the world _did_ happen to you?"

"For your information, Weasley," he snapped back, "I was working on an independent project for work and a difficult spell that I tried backfired. There. Are you happy?"

Ginny was not at all. She stared at him incredulously, wondering if she was actually expected to believe what was possibly the worst lie in the history of the world. When she didn't leave, he raised an eyebrow in irritation and waved a dismissive hand at her, and completely stunned and frustrated, she actually turned away and obeyed. 

- - - - -

It was well into autumn, and the days were growing shorter and darker. The kitchen of Grimmauld Place was dimly lit by a few candles here and there, and Hermione was completely alone, bent over her parchment. Earlier at work that day, Ron had mentioned that he would be stopping by the Burrow before he came home for that evening, and no doubt he would stay for dinner. She too, of course, had been invited, but had loads to work on and opted for a quiet night of work over family dinner.

She was lucky in that she hadn't had any need, once school was over, to immediately find a place of her own. Grimmauld Place was left, which had been left to Harry when Sirius died, was still used strictly for order headquarters and business. With Sirius dead, however, there was no consistent person to stay and look after the house, though order members often flitted through. Remus Lupin had generally taken care of the place, but he'd been extremely busy lately, as the task of running the Order had unofficially fallen to him after Dumbledore died, so the house was left in need of someone else. Ron and Hermione volunteered, after the battle at Hogsmeade and things began to settle down. Members of the Weasley family frequently came by, as well as other order members, so they were not often left alone in the big house, but it was, in all ways that mattered, theirs. It certainly wasn't Hermione's idea of a dream home- but a home, for the moment.

She didn't expect Ron back well into the night, and therefore was taken by surprise when she heard footsteps in the hall outside. Frowning, she got to her feet. "Ron? Is that you?" she called. She reached for the closed kitchen door, but before she could lay a finger on it, it swung open.

Slightly alarmed, Hermione swept back and went for her wand. "What in Merlin's name?-" she began, raising her wand, but then a shadowy figure stumbled into the room and nearly collapsed to the floor. Even in the dark, Hermione recognized him immediately.

"Ron!" she gasped, hurrying forward. "Oh, Merlin- Ron-" He was bleeding and haggard, looking as though he'd been involved in some sort of brawl. For a moment, he didn't say anything, _couldn't_ say anything as he gasped for breath and let Hermione help him into a chair, where he promptly slumped over.

"Ron, what happened?" Hermione demanded, trying to check him over for the worst of his wounds. "Have you been attacked? Where-"

Ron mumbled something unintelligible. Hermione shook her head. "What? What did you-"

"Death- Death Eaters." His breaths shallow, Ron glanced up, tried to straighten. "Death Eaters-"

"What?" Horrified, Hermione shook her head. "What do you mean, Death Eaters? Who, where-"

"Harry," Ron gasped, bringing Hermione to a sharp halt. "Looking- for Harry-" And before he could give her any more information, he gasped sharply and slumped forward, unconscious, and leaving Hermione utterly shocked.


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

_November, 2004_

"You know, Gin, I'm always up for a good Quidditch match." Ron paused in his ascent up the stands to survey the field over his shoulder. "But explain to me why we're here again?"

Ginny sighed and urged her brother to continue climbing. She'd asked Ron to come along with her to Hogwarts that day for the first Quidditch match of the season, between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Of course, neither of them were at school anymore, but it wasn't too out of place to have visitors at the matches.

"Carina's supposed to be here," Ginny said tersely. "With Malfoy."

"Carina Moon? What's that slimy git doing with her?" Ron demanded, weaving through the crowd. "And since when are the two of you so chummy, anyway?"

"Don't you know anything?" Ginny rolled her eyes. "I'm sure I've explained this to you. More than once."

"Well, explain it again."

"Carina is-" Ginny hurried up the steps, closing the distance between her and Ron, so that she could lower her voice. "She's the spy we've got on Malfoy. Remember?"

"She is?" Ron whirled around, nearly knocking Ginny down the stands.

"Of course, you idiot," Ginny hissed, steadying herself on her brother's shoulder. "Why did you think she was dating him, for his pointy good looks and tainted money?"

Ron's eyes widened. "She's _dating_ him?"

"Merlin help me," Ginny muttered, pushing past Ron. "Yes, she's dating him. She's been dating him for the past _three months_. Where have you been?" She threw her hands up in irritation.

"Been getting pummeled by Death Eaters, that's where I've been," Ron grumbled, shuffling up the steps behind her.

"Any leads on that, by that way? Any more attacks?"

"Nothing." Ron sighed. "I don't remember much of the last attack, anyway."

Ginny pursed her lips in apprehension. "Well, the Order's working on it, anyway. And on Malfoy, which is why Carina and I have suddenly become best friends."

"But you're not part of that job," Ron objected, "are you? Spying on Malfoy, I mean?"

Ginny paused as they approached the top box of the stands, squinting at the teachers and visitors occupying it. "It never hurts to have another set of eyes."

"Yeah, but does it have to be you?" When Ginny didn't answer, Ron took her by the arm and pulled her around to face him. "Gin. You've been far too caught up in this whole Malfoy thing since that incident in the hospital."

"So?" she snapped.

"So, I'm worried about you!" Ron shook his head. "It's like Harry in sixth year, all over again."

"Yeah, and he was right about Malfoy then, wasn't he?" Ginny reminded him. Ron shook his head again and opened his mouth to protest, but she didn't give him time. "Look, I know what I'm doing, all right? Lupin hasn't got me on anything else at the moment, so it doesn't-"

"No, of course he doesn't," Ron said darkly. He suddenly seemed very keen to avoid her eyes. "Because he knows you're right busy at work, doesn't he? What with all your cases, and on top of that, your own private assignment."

Ginny froze, her jaw tightening. "I'm not getting into this with you," she said, her tone very cold and very quiet. "Not now."

"Gin-"

"He's _dead_, Ron," Ginny hissed, coming down a step to close in on him. "He's dead! You'd think you'd let well alone now, but you never stop, do you?"

"Ginny, I didn't mean-"

"I don't have time for this." Ginny let out a dry laugh, turning her back on Ron. "You can come with me, or you can stay, but I don't have time to discuss my dead boyfriend with you." And with that, she headed for the top box.

Once there, however, she scanned the rows of teachers and visitors to no avail. She didn't see Carina anywhere. "They're not here," she murmured, her heart sinking.

"Sure they are." Ginny jumped, not having realized that Ron had followed her. "There's Malfoy, anyway, the jumped-up arse. Down near the front."

Ginny followed Ron's gaze. He was right, there was Malfoy, lounging in the far corner as though he owned the place. _You'd think five years in prison would teach him some humility_, she thought sourly. Aloud, she said, "But where's Carina?"

Ron shrugged. "Dunno. Look, there's a free space there, next to Flitwick. You coming?"

"Sure," Ginny replied, still distracted as she stared at Malfoy. She hadn't much excuse to confront him without Carina; it would seem too suspicious. She didn't know what to do, besides sit down and watch the game.

She tried to focus on the match, but her eyes kept straying back to that pale blond head a few rows below her. At one point, after they'd been there awhile, Ron grabbed her by the elbow, pointing excitedly. "Oh, bollocks, I think he's seen the Snitch!"

Ginny glanced to where Ron was pointing and watched the Slytherin Seeker for a few moments before her gaze drifted back to the front row below her. Only this time, instead of the back of his head, she found herself gazing into a pair of grey orbs.

Ginny jerked her eyes away as though the sight of him had burned her. The crowd was suddenly rowdy and screaming around her, Ron included, but she didn't pay them any attention. "Ron, I'll be right back," she shouted over the noise, but when she climbed over him, he didn't even notice.

She hurried down the steps, violently working to avoid looking in Malfoy's direction again. She wasn't entirely sure where she was going, just that she'd panicked when she found Malfoy staring at her. Was he onto her? Had he realized she was spying on him? Had she put Carina's whole life in jeopardy because of her damned curiosity?

She was just on her way out of the top box when she slammed into someone, hard and fast. Ginny reeled back, the wind knocked out of her, and just managed to catch herself from falling flat on her arse.

"Looking for me, Weasley?"

Ginny glanced up at the sneering voice, finding herself caught between irritation and anxiety. Malfoy stood smirking over her, hands in his pockets, seemingly as oblivious to all the noise as she was. "No," she retorted, immediately taking the defensive.

He merely raised his eyebrows in response, a skeptical expression on his face.

Ginny flushed. Attempting to salvage some part of this disaster, she flipped her hair out of her face and said, "Well, yes, but only because I thought Carina was supposed to be with you. She said she'd be coming today with you."

"I see." Malfoy snorted. "And you came out here today just to see me?"

"To see Carina. You know, because we're _friends?_" Ginny rolled her eyes, her apprehension quickly giving way to annoyance.

"Well." Malfoy seemed a little disgruntled by this answer. "Yes, she mentioned something to that effect."

At this, Ginny breathed a little easier and silently thanked Carina for helping her cause. "So, where is she, then? Didn't she come?"

"No." Malfoy folded his arms over his chest, his eyes narrowed. "She wasn't feeling well."

"Malfoy!" Ginny threw her hands up in exasperation. "And you just left her home alone and came anyway?"

Malfoy blinked. "Yes. Why not?"

"Never mind," she grumbled, rubbing her shoulder where someone had jostled past her. "Hey," she said, glancing around for the first time, "why is everyone leaving? Is the game over?"

Malfoy sneered. "Oh, brilliant observation. The game ended before you got down here, Weasley. Slytherin won," he ended, his nose in the air.

"It's just a stupid school game." Ginny frowned at his smug attitude.

"Clearly," Malfoy replied, still with that superior tone of voice. "As you were obviously so distracted, I'm not surprised that you didn't much care for the outcome of the game."

"I wasn't distracted," Ginny snapped.

Malfoy's demeanor changed then, and he looked at her with a knowing gleam in his eye. "Oh, I'd say you were pretty distracted by the look of things, Weasley. In fact, from what I hear-" He smirked and leaned back against the railing, "you've been pretty distracted for the past five years."

Ginny opened her mouth, but suppressed the hot retort. She paused. "What does that mean?" she asked finally.

Malfoy's smirk grew wider, and Ginny's temper shorter. "Look, Malfoy, I don't have time for your slimy-"

"He's not worth all this, you know," Malfoy said suddenly, straightening from his comfortably-slouched position against the railing.

Ginny froze and went very, very still. "What? Who?"

"You know who," Malfoy answered. "Zabini, of course, who else?"

For a moment, Ginny could only stare, fairly amazed that she kept her anger in control. "Don't," she finally managed from between clenched teeth.

"Don't what?" Malfoy asked innocently.

"Don't- talk to me about Blaise," she snapped.

"What, Weasley, can't I even mention his name?" Malfoy inquired with a raised eyebrow. He stepped closer to Ginny as the crowd around them began to thin, and he crossed his arms over his chest.

"You shouldn't," Ginny told him, trembling with suppressed rage, "seeing as he was a far better person than you'll ever be-"

"I can't think of anything Zabini was better at than me, Weasley," Malfoy drawled. "Except maybe looking pretty and taking pity on a poor, Muggle-loving, _excuse_ for a witch like you."

"Shut up," Ginny spat.

"What's the matter, Weasley? Don't like admitting that you were never anything but a pity case?"

Any semblance of control Ginny had put up _snapped_. She swung her fist back, ready to slam it into Malfoy's face, but he ducked back slightly and deftly caught her fist in his hand. Angrily, she wrenched out of his grip.

"Now, now Weasley," Malfoy said smoothly, stepping away from her. "Wouldn't do to have the Ministry's _prize Aurors_ hitting ordinary citizens in public." His words dripped with sarcasm.

Keeping her temper in check, Ginny leveled an icy gaze at Malfoy. "Death Eaters don't count."

Malfoy jerked as though she had hit him. Glaring fiercely, he turned on his heel and left the stands, quickly vanishing from sight.

The seats around her were virtually empty now. Ron was nowhere in sight; she supposed he'd walked past her without noticing, thinking she'd left already. She couldn't really bring herself to care at the moment, though. She was absolutely seething. _That bigoted prat! How dare he talk about- about-_

Ginny swallowed and shut her eyes. Quite suddenly, she was angry- not with Malfoy, but with Blaise. Because as loathe as she was to admit it, Malfoy was right. She wasn't surprised he'd 'heard' that she'd been 'distracted' since Blaise had died. Everyone knew about Ginny Weasley, and what a sodding mess she'd become, filling up her life with a useless search for someone who was probably already dead.

_Damn_ him to hell, what had Blaise done to her? To her life? He'd wrecked _everything_, destroyed everything she should have had. He'd broken it all down to nothing but bits and pieces of a scattered, forgotten memory. 

She used to be such a lively person. On occasion, she still was, but for the most part, the pain of remembering that life, her life before Blaise's death, was so intense that she'd shut down. She'd blocked out those memories until the person she used to be didn't exist anymore. And it was all because of _him_, damn it all!

The real trick of it was that, until he'd died, she hadn't thought the relationship meant much to her, or to him, for that matter. Merlin, before her sixth year, she couldn't even stand him. He was such a pretty boy, not to mention a slimy Slytherin git to boot, with enough money to finance half of Europe. She'd been annoyed when her work with the D.A., and with Slytherins such as Tracey Davis, had found her spending some time with him, through association. But somewhere along the line, something changed. She discovered that he didn't care half as much about blood as he pretended to for his friends, and he didn't care for Voldemort at all.

"But I don't even know if he loved me," she said dully, speaking to no one. He'd certainly never said it. Neither had she, and she hadn't realized that she _did_ love him until he died. She hadn't thought she could love anyone else after Harry, but Harry left, and her heart didn't seem to care that she'd been waiting for him to come back.

Shutting her eyes, Ginny fell back into the stands and laid her head in her lap. "Damn you, Blaise," she whispered. "I hate you. I hate you." 

- - - - -

_December, 2004_

Carina wasn't cold. This strangely random observation was the first to strike her that morning as she drifted awake. She couldn't quite figure out why this was so odd- her mind was still too fuzzy with sleep to fathom that, and as comfortable as she was, she didn't care enough to fully wake up and figure it out.

Draco shifted beside her, half-consciously reaching out to draw her in close to him. As Carina settled into the crook of his arm, and her mind began to further bury itself back into sleep, the peculiar lack of cold abruptly transformed into something more intense. She wasn't cold, as Draco's bed often was in the chilly winter mornings, no, she was _hot._ Perspiration lined her forehead, and just as this discomfort began to fully register, so did another. The added heat of Draco's body, combined with the sudden onslaught of nausea rising within her, was just too much to take. She yanked herself from Draco's arms and sat upright, instantly regretting the jerky movement as her stomach gave an unpleasant lurch.

"Carina? Is it morning yet?" Draco murmured sleepily, his eyes fluttering open.

Carina opened her mouth to reply, but suddenly, there wasn't time. Instead, she bolted from the bed and dashed for the toilet. There, she promptly proceeded to empty her stomach of the few contents it contained.

She was vaguely aware of Draco stumbling out of bed and into the loo behind her. "Carina? What are you- urgh!" he yelped, sounding abruptly more alert than he had a few moments ago. "What's wrong with you?"

_Stupid git_, she thought in exasperation, as she finished throwing up. With Draco merely watching on from a considerable distance and making appropriate sounds of disgust, Carina straightened up and shakily made her way over to the sink. She filled a glass with water to rinse out her mouth, glancing at Draco in the mirror.

"What's wrong with you?" he repeated, finally daring to step forward and come up behind her. "Are you sick?"

She set the glass down on the counter. Draco eyed it warily. "I think that much is obvious," Carina replied dryly, turning to face him. She opened her mouth to say more, but the nausea began to drift in again, so she briefly shut her eyes in order to keep it at bay. Eyes still closed, she pushed past Draco and stumbled back into his room to collapse onto the bed. She promptly wrapped herself in the duvet- she was quite cold now- and tried to keep as still as possible.

After a few seconds, she heard Draco pad over to the bed. "Are you sure you should be in my bed if you're sick?" he asked skeptically.

"If it's contagious," Carina replied, her voice muffled by the sheets, "I'd say I've probably already passed it onto you, wouldn't you?"

"I guess," Draco admitted. She felt the bed bend under his weight as he crawled back into it beside her. He laid a soothing hand on her back, but then asked, "Are you sure you shouldn't go home or something?"

Carina would have rolled her eyes if she'd thought the gesture wouldn't make her dizzy. "I will if it makes you feel better," she acquiesced. "Just let me get my bearings. I don't think I can Apparate while I'm this nauseous."

Once she felt better, she dressed and Apparated home, and there, she spent the rest of the weekend. She'd thought a simple bug probably would have passed after twenty-four hours, but when she woke Monday morning, it was only to once again stagger into the loo and throw up.

It wasn't until she was lying back in her bed, thoroughly determined not to go into work that day, when a small, sneaking suspicion crept into her mind. At first, Carina balked at the idea- it was that absurd, and she attributed the irrationality to her ill disposition- but the more she thought it through, the more logical a possibility it seemed. Her heart sank. No. Surely it couldn't be. The reality of it all slammed into her gut so hard and so fast that she thought she might be sick again. She sat up slowly on her bed, a certain amount of dread seeping into her chest. Nervously, she bit her nails and fiddled with her fingers until she made up her mind. She couldn't just bury the possibility. It was plausible enough that she'd need to confirm it.

Later that day, around noon, Carina Apparated just outside Grimmauld Place and went in. She'd thought to find it empty, but Ron Weasley met her halfway down the corridor. Looking puzzled to see her, he opened his mouth, but Carina spoke first. "What are you doing here? Why aren't you at work?"

Ron shut his mouth, paused, and then opened it again. "I was about to ask you the same," he said warily.

"I'm- er- not well," Carina answered.

"Oh. Well." Ron shoved his hands in his pockets, looking slightly discomfited. "Well, Hermione wouldn't let me go in today. My office owled me early this morning. Apparently, some, er- threats were made."

Carina furrowed her brow. "Threats? From the Death Eaters, you mean? Again?"

Ron sighed and nodded, leaning against the wall. "Yeah."

"Why are they after you so much?" Carina wondered. "They're so convinced that you know where Harry is."

"Well, he is my best mate." Ron shrugged.

"But so's Hermione." Carina frowned. "And they aren't coming after her."

"No. No, they're not." Ron rubbed a hand behind his neck, evading her gaze. "Thank Merlin for that."

Carina narrowed her eyes, watching him intently. "_Do_ you know where Harry is?"

"Nah." Ron waved a hand, straightening up. "Haven't got a clue. Wish the Death Eaters believed that, right?" He grinned, but looked faintly puzzled. "Hey, but if you're not feeling well, why'd you come here? Shouldn't you be at home?"

"Well, I wanted to talk to Lupin. Is he here?"

Ron shook his head, looking baffled. "No, I'm sure he's at home. He wouldn't be here if he didn't know to meet you."

Carina could have smacked herself. Of course he wouldn't. "Oh, damn it all," she muttered.

"What? What's wrong?" he asked apprehensively.

Carina sighed, leaned against the corridor wall, and muttered without thinking, "I think I'm pregnant."

There was a moment's stunned silence. Ron seemed to realize what she'd said as soon as Carina did. Her eyes widened and she turned to stare at him desperately. Sweet Merlin, was her brain so addled she didn't even know what she was saying anymore?

"You- you're- what?" Ron demanded hoarsely. "What did you say?"

"Nothing," Carina said quickly. "I didn't-"

"But you- you just said-"

"No, I didn't, Ron!" Carina sighed in exasperation as she turned away and started down the corridor and into the kitchen. "I didn't say anything; you're imagining things-"

"But you just said!" Ron protested, following her into the kitchen. "You just said you're-"

"Oh, never mind what I said!" Carina snapped. "Just leave it!"

Something else, however, seemed to have struck Ron. "Merlin," he whispered, staring at her with wide eyes. "You- you're-" He broke off, apparently too horror-struck to finish the thought.

"I'm what?" Carina demanded crossly.

Ron swallowed. "You're dating Draco Malfoy," he whispered.

Carina nearly leapt at him. "Ron, you cannot breathe a word of this!" she hissed. "Not- a- word!"

"But-"

"You're not going into work today," she told him, dragging him down into a chair at the kitchen table beside her. "You're sitting right here, and you're going to wait while I go have a test done, and when I come back you're going to stay right here with me until tonight."

"What's tonight?" Ron asked nervously.

Carina chewed her lip and clasped her hands together. "Tonight I go talk to Draco."

- - - - -

Draco was surprised when a house-elf came, late that evening, to let him know that Carina was there to see him. That she'd come so late was not odd in itself, but that she'd come without warning was. He still shared the manor with his mum, after all.

He found her still waiting in the entranceway, twisting her hands together and looking fairly apprehensive. There was a strange look in her eye when she turned to face him, a strange look he couldn't quite place.

"Carina." Draco reached for her to draw her in for a kiss, but she flinched and pulled away before he could even properly raise a hand. He eyed her warily. "What's..." He searched for a word to place her disposition. "What's wrong?"

Carina stared at him, still with that awful look on her face. It was almost... hopeful, wistful, but no, more... appraising. Of what? Him?

"Carina?" he prompted. Damn it, why was she staring at him like that? Draco shifted his feet uneasily under her scrutinizing gaze. After nearly four- or was it five?- months of being with her, he couldn't stand to have her eyes on him like that.

She swallowed, and beneath her feigned control, her voice trembled. "I have to tell you something," she said.

Deciding that he most definitely did not like this and that this most definitely could not be good, he crossed his arms over his chest. "Okay," he said, a trifle impatient.

Carina looked desperate now, as though she wanted him to know what she needed to tell him, but without actually having to say anything. "Well?" he snapped.

She turned away from him suddenly. "Give me a minute," she said, raising her arms over her face.

Draco didn't want to give her a minute. He wanted her to say what she'd come to say so he could deal with it, but he hated this waiting, knowing that he waited for some dreadful news- though what, he couldn't begin to guess. He managed to force himself to remain silent for a few seconds at best, before he burst out, "Damn it all, what the hell is wrong?"

Strangely, where she usually would have snapped back at his impatience, she only sighed and turned to lean against the banister of the staircase. It was as though she hadn't even heard him shout. Draco was on the verge of shaking her when she finally stepped forward, wrapped her arms about herself, and looked at him. She looked terribly vulnerable, which only pushed him to further impatience and irritation. He liked women that could take care of themselves, in fact, that was what he always liked about Carina. He didn't like her looking at him as though she wanted _him_ to care of her.

She seemed to be steeling herself to talk, but then shook her head, and muttered, "Merlin, maybe I should just go."

"No." Draco stepped forward swiftly, blocking her way to the door. "No, you don't get to leave without telling me what's wrong with you! What could possibly be this difficult to say?"

When Carina still didn't respond, he took a huge breath to calm himself and decided to try a different approach. She was close enough now, so cautiously, he reached an arm out to her. She flinched again, turned her head, but he grasped her arm and pulled her to him. Her entire body was rigid and tense, but she finally relaxed into his chest. 

"Just tell me," he said quietly.

She mumbled something into his chest, and he looked down at her, placing a hand on her hair. "What?" Draco prompted, leaning back slightly so as to hear her better.

She took a huge breath and stared into his chest. "I'm pregnant," she said softly.

Now, it was Draco's turn to tense. Without really meaning to, he seized her by the arms and pushed her back from him, trying to look into her eyes. "What?" he demanded, startled by how panicked his voice sounded. "_What?_"

Carina wrenched out of his grip and eyed him anxiously. She rapped her knuckles at her sides, wrung her fingers together, then finally settled with crossing her arms over her chest. "I said I-"

"I heard you," he cut in, his voice strangled. "I- you-" Draco stopped, swallowed, and tried to regain his scattered senses. He felt as though a tumult of a million different emotions were flooding through him, roaring so loudly that he'd been struck deaf from his own thoughts.

He couldn't quite say what she was doing until distantly, he heard her voice. "I should go," she muttered, turning away, but Draco flung out an arm and grabbed her.

"Don't!" he said sharply.

"Draco-"

"I- you can't- go," he got out. "I- sit there-" He pointed aimlessly, in what he thought might be the general direction of a chair. He didn't bother to see if she obeyed, but shut his eyes. Sweet Merlin, _he_ was the one that needed to sit; he felt strangely lightheaded-

He was barely aware of it when Carina reached out to him, grabbed him by the arm and yanked him over to a chair. "Sit," she commanded tersely, shoving him down into it. Draco obeyed without protest, letting his head sink into his hands, amazed that he was actually having to concentrate on keeping his consciousness intact. "This is insane," he muttered.

"Draco, I should go-"

"Go?" he echoed, lifting his head to stare at her. "Are _you_ insane? You can't just- just go-"

"But I-"

"For Merlin's sake, you just said- just said- you're-" He swallowed. Strange, how he couldn't seem to get out that one word.

"I think we both know what I said," Carina snapped, "so neither of us needs to repeat it." Despite her angry tone, Draco found he was grateful to her for that.

"Right," he agreed hollowly. "I- just- don't go." He needed her to be quiet. He needed to _think_. What was he supposed to do with this information, what were _they_ going to do? Desperately, he got his thoughts in order. "Right," he managed to get out. "Right. Are you sure?"

Carina nodded slowly. "I've done a test, and I went to St. Mungo's. They confirmed it."

"Right." He swallowed. There went that option. What was next? If she was... then he needed to... "Right," he said, for what seemed the umpteenth time. "Right. Then we've just got... we've got to get married."

"What?" Carina yelped. "Now you're the one who's insane!"

Draco stared at her. "What are you talking about?" he demanded, getting to his feet. He loomed over her, but she stared him down resolutely.

"I'm not going to marry you," Carina informed him, sounding scandalized by the very thought.

"Why not?" he asked in amazement. "We have to get married! I- this- we can't _not_ get married!"

"What, because the Malfoy name will be sullied?" Carina spat. She sounded angry, angry at him, though why, he couldn't imagine. What had he done? Nothing that she hadn't done as well!

"I- no," he sputtered out in response to her accusation. "Because it's, er... the right thing to do."

Carina was glaring at him as though she'd just found out he was a Mudblood. "Oh, please!" she snapped. "You're not doing this because it's _right!_ You're not doing this for me! When have you ever cared about right and wrong?"

Oddly enough, that stung, and he wasn't sure why. After all, Draco reflected, it was fairly true. "Look, I don't see why you're objecting to this," he said impatiently. "I mean, all right, it wasn't exactly something we planned, to get married, but we certainly get along well enough-"

"Draco," Carina interrupted, shaking her head. "I- we can't- you-" She stopped, paused, grasping for words. She finally settled on, "I can't marry you."

_I get that_, Draco thought sourly. He shook his own head, his frustration mounting. "Then what the hell are you _doing_ here?" he demanded angrily. "What do you want from me?"

Carina stared at him incredulously. "Draco, I don't _want_ anything, I didn't come here to get something out of you... I came because I thought you should know."

"Like hell you did," Draco snarled. "Why would you give a damn whether I know or not if you don't want me involved?"

"I didn't say I don't want you involved," Carina began, outraged, but Draco cut in.

"Oh, so you want money, is that it? You want-"

"For the last time, I don't want anything from you!" Carina shrieked, finally losing her last shred of control. "I came because- because-"

"Because why?" Draco demanded harshly.

Carina stared at him for what seemed forever, at a loss for words. Then she shook her head, stepping away from him. "Because I didn't know what else to do," she said quietly.

He was fairly shocked at this admission of helplessness, from a woman he'd always known- or thought he'd known- to be secure, poised, and in control. He was grasping for words, for something to say in reply to this, but before he could even think to open his mouth, she turned and Apparated away from the manor without another word.

Draco gaped after her, speechless, but not left so for long. He was thoroughly startled by a brief, cool, "So," behind him.

Draco whirled around. "Mum!" he gasped. "I- you- did you-" He broke off at her less-than-amused, raised eyebrow.

"Well, Draco," his mother said, her voice deceptively calm and quiet, "you've got yourself in a prickly situation." Her eyes blazed furiously.

Draco winced. "Mum, I-"

"You what?" she asked, her voice steely. "Do go on, Draco. You what? What do you intend to do about this?"

Draco swallowed. "You're honestly asking me?"

"Well, you're a grown man, after all," she reminded him. "I suppose I could tell you what to do, but do you really want me to do that?"

Now that he thought about it, Draco did not. "Don't tell Dad," he said immediately. It was the very first thing that came to his mind.

If possible, her eyebrows went even higher. "You plan to keep this from him?"

"No." Draco shook his head. "I just... let me tell him. If he knows of it before I can tell him, he won't give me a chance to..." His voice trailed off.

"To what?" his mother snapped. "_Explain?_ I think the explanation for this is fairly clear, Draco. You were irresponsible and careless-"

"I wasn't!" Draco injected hotly. "She must have been, because I swear..." He stopped and took a deep breath, trying to collect himself together. "Look. Please, Mum, just please, let _me_ tell Dad."

His mother nodded, but she still eyed him askance. "And the girl? What do you intend to do about her? It's Moon, isn't it? A Pureblood family, and with good money. The marriage would be acceptable, if only-"

"I'll marry her," Draco assured her.

"Really? She didn't seem too confident in that idea."

"I'll manage it," Draco promised. "Somehow, I will."


	4. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

_December 2004_

Ginny fervently wished she were at home playing Quidditch with her brothers. An easy, comfortable Quidditch game would be a perfect way to pass the time, but instead, she found herself dealing with more badgering and pestering from her mum and her three sisters-in-law. This last minute Christmas shopping in Diagon Alley was not a situation she relished.

"I'm at a loss at what to get George," Diana admitted.

Hermione smothered a giggle. "You haven't got him _anything_ yet?"

"No," Diana replied. "I went on a mad frenzy getting things for James-" She paused to smile fondly at her infant son, who was currently being happily cuddled by Fleur, "-and left George off for the last minute."

"Ginny dear, is there any place in particular you'd like to stop by?" her mother asked.

Ginny forced a smile. "No, Mum, I've finished all my shopping."

They reached Flourish and Blotts, which Hermione insisted they stop by. Ginny peered inside.

"Er, look, I'll just wait out here, Mum," she decided, noting how crowded it was inside.

Her mother looked around at her oddly. "Outside? Whatever for?"

"Well, I mean... like I said, I haven't really got anything I need to buy," Ginny pointed out. "Besides, it looks really crowded. Why don't I just take James and sit out here?"

Her mother was still looking at her oddly, but Diana hadn't noticed. She beamed at Ginny. "Wonderful," she decided, and with that, Fleur passed off the baby boy to Ginny, and the four women went inside.

"Thank goodness," Ginny murmured, sinking onto a bench nearby. She hated feeling as though she were bringing everyone down, although, she didn't think anyone had really noticed how glum she was. Christmas used to be her favorite time of the year, but ever since Blaise had died, in only left her feeling empty. She hardly felt she could confide in her family about it, however. Ron had seen to that. Though he'd come to trust some former Slytherins, such as Tracey Davis, who had joined the D.A., he'd never been able to accept Blaise. Partly, of course, because Blaise had refused to join the defense group. A Slytherin to the core, he'd seen too much danger and not enough profit in the D.A., and had opted to stay out of it. So Ron had always been suspicious of Blaise, and unfortunately, he'd quickly convinced most of her family that his suspicions were justly founded. Ginny had felt slightly alienated from her family ever since. And instead of bringing them closer together, Blaise's death only seemed to distance Ginny more and more.

But no matter how monotonous her life could seem sometimes, spending time with her baby nephew always brought a little bit of happiness to her day. She laughed quietly at his antics, as he tried to wriggle out of her grasp. He would probably turn out just like his father. George had married Diana in the spring, about a year and a half ago. He'd known her at Hogwarts- she'd played Quidditch for her house team, Ravenclaw- and they'd dated casually a few times, but then lost touch once they both left school. It was by mere chance, a few years ago, that Diana ran into George at the twins' shop, and they'd quickly begun dating again.

James fussed about for several more minutes before Ginny stood with a sigh. "I think we both need a little snack," she told him, "or maybe something warm to drink. What do you think?"

James only smiled vaguely in agreement, and Ginny set off for the small cafe that had replaced Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor.

After purchasing a cup of hot chocolate, Ginny found a small table outside. She'd only barely seated herself when it all began to happen- so quickly, just as it had five years ago in Hogsmeade. Terrified screams somewhere off to her right alerted Ginny to trouble, and she leapt to her feet with James. Her eyes widened as she gazed off down the street and spotted green and red light far off in the distance, and a moment later, she heard shouted curses and spells.

For a moment, Ginny was frozen as people around her began to scream and run haphazardly. For a moment, all she could remember was that day in Hogsmeade, with so many people dying. For a moment, Blaise's face swam before her eyes, in the midst of blood and screaming and terror...

Then James gave a frightened wail, and Ginny snapped back to her senses as her chocolate slipped from her hand to splatter on the street below. Someone shoved by her as the transgression grew closer, and the severity of the situation hit Ginny with full impact. She turned to run the opposite way as most were doing, back towards the bookshop, but just as she turned green light shot by her, hit a bench on the side of the street, and smashed it to bits.

Ginny stared in horrified shock at the place where the bench had been. "Oh, shit."

And then she was running, as best she could, with a bawling James in her arms. She didn't dare look back for fear of what she knew she would see- Death Eaters killing and innocents dying. Total destruction, as it had been in Hogsmeade.

She was brought up short and to a halt when she spotted the curses being let off in the direction that she was running towards. Ginny swore violently, looking around desperately for a safe place. With James to look after, she couldn't even risk pulling out her wand to duel. How did it all go so horribly _wrong?_

The shouted curses and screams behind her reached a crescendo, and Ginny spun about with a gasp, shifting James into one arm and grasping desperately for her wand at the same time. Death Eaters were amongst the terrified civilians, curses being shot and people being killed-

And then, so suddenly she couldn't say how it happened, a Death Eater got too close, and Ginny reacted instantly. "_Impedimenta!_"

The Death Eater went flying back and slammed into another, sending them both sprawling to the street ground. Ginny instantly wished she'd used another spell, as the sudden display drew the attention of several Death Eaters to her. One of them shot a jet of green light at her from his wand, and Ginny threw herself to one side, falling to the ground with James, behind a bench. She watched as another jet of green light hit the street right beside her, and then she acted. She sat the wailing James down, safely secured behind the bench, grasped her wand, and leapt to her feet. "_Stupefy!_"

Her spell hit another black-robed Death Eater, but at the same time, three more sprang forward, cornering her hopelessly. The first curse shot, just seconds before the other two, was a jet of red light that Ginny deflected with a shouted, "_Protego!_" but even as her shield did its work, the other two attackers shot their own curses at her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw one Death Eater make that familiar slashing movement with his wand, and Ginny was unprepared to defend herself. Purple flame struck her directly in the chest, and she was too consumed by pain and shock to recognize the Impediment Jinx hurled at her. By the time she went flying back to hit the brick wall behind her with a _crack_, she was already out cold.

- - - - -

Draco peered around his surroundings edgily. "Isn't this- a bit- well, risky?" he asked dubiously.

Lucius Malfoy glanced over at his son with a weary sigh. "Draco," he said testily, "you've said this just about every time you've come here."

"Well, you'd think someone would realize you lot are using this place to hide out," Draco said grumpily. "Isn't it fairly obvious?"

"It probably has occurred to the Ministry," Lucius noted absently, "but our enchantments hide us well enough. They'll never suspect."

"Don't they realize you've put up enchantments?" Draco said irritably. "I mean, after all, they're wizards too. Most of them filthy half-bloods, true, but still, not Muggles."

Lucius sighed, a trifle impatiently. "Draco, they don't _know_ half the enchantments we're using. And if they did, they wouldn't be quick to admit it, seeing the sort of suspicion it would put them under." He nailed his son with a direct look. "But that's not really what has you worried, is it?"

"Or you," Draco shot back. He knew his father was just as paranoid about him being there as Draco himself was. He'd made it perfectly clear how careful Draco had to be, coming around to see Lucius- what with several Death Eaters after his head.

"Yes, well, you got in here well enough, didn't you?" Lucius reminded him. "No one saw you."

"Except for Jugson," Draco grumbled. "Are you sure he can be trusted?"

"Of course," Lucius said darkly. "He doesn't like Greyback in charge any more than I do."

Draco grimaced at the mention of the werewolf. Fenrir Greyback was not in charge, precisely, of the Death Eaters hiding out, but he was close enough, and it was him and his faction who wanted to see Draco punished for failing to kill Dumbledore, and then fleeing to hide from the Dark Lord for nearly a year, before he was caught and sent to prison.

"So then," Lucius said, scribbling away at some parchment at his desk, "what news? Any hint on the order, or the Ministry?"

"No," Draco said without thinking.

Lucius looked up with a glare. "Nothing?" he growled.

"Well- I mean, nothing you probably don't already know!" Draco sputtered. "Why are you asking _me?_ You've got Death Eaters everywhere!"

"True," Lucius murmured, "and where we haven't, we've got spies... and people like you."

Draco looked up sharply at his tone. "I-"

"You know, we wouldn't have to worry about Greyback and his lot so much," Lucius cut in, "if you would agree to resume your responsibilities as a Death Eater, Draco."

The very mention of such a thing sent Draco's stomach lurching, and his throat tightened in fear. He hoped, for his own sake, that his face remained impassive. "Well, I don't think I should," he said, very carefully, so as to make sure his voice didn't shake.

Lucius glanced up with a raised eyebrow, and Draco tried not to squirm. "Really, Draco, why don't-"

"You know Mother doesn't want me to," Draco said, his tone slightly petulant. "She never wanted me to take the Mark in the first place."

Lucius sighed again, clearly impatient. "You're not a child," he said coldly, "and your mother-"

"Don't tell me that I can just ignore her and do what I want," Draco cut in. "You know as well as I that the day I choose to ignore Mum, she'll have me six feet under."

"So she would," Lucius agreed, looking slightly amused. "Still-"

"Do you even talk to her anymore?" Draco asked suddenly, picking absently at the disgustingly fraying armchair. He didn't meet his father's gaze.

"Sometimes," Lucius said coolly. Draco refused to look, but he could sense his father's eyes boring into him.

"Does she ever come here?"

"No," Lucius said shortly.

Draco glanced up, and saw that his father had returned to his work. "Then how-"

"That isn't your concern, Draco," Lucius said in a voice that booked no argument.

Draco recognized this tone of voice, and he was about to let it go when a horrible suspicion crept upon him. "You don't come by the manor, do you?" he demanded. When Lucius glanced up sharply with his own suspicion, Draco evaded his gaze and quickly said, "I mean- or, well, around anywhere much- do you? I mean, you can't risk... getting caught-"

"Of course," Lucius said evenly. Draco glanced up, and noticed his father was studying him shrewdly. Before he could divert his father's attention, Lucius asked, "Draco, was there something you wanted to tell me?"

"What?" Draco asked sharply.

"I didn't summon you here," Lucius reminded. "Was there something in particular you wanted to talk about?"

Draco wondered whether his own apprehension was causing him to imagine that extra edge in Lucius's voice. He couldn't already know... could he? Only his mother knew... well, besides Carina, obviously... and his mother had told him she would let him tell Lucius. Still... maybe she'd thought he'd spoken to him already, and let it slip?

"Have you talked to mother... recently?" Draco asked, in a would-be-casual voice.

"Why?" Lucius asked.

"Well- er-"

"I did have some contact around the Ministry lately," Lucius said abruptly, his eyes still boring into Draco, "and I heard some... interesting things."

Draco swallowed. "Like what?" He knew. He knew something, at least. Still, how... no one else knew, surely not. Truth be told, Draco didn't know if Carina had said anything to anyone. He hadn't spoken to her since she'd left so angrily a few days ago, but... surely there couldn't be anything going 'round the Ministry about it...

"Things concerning you," Lucius said flatly.

Draco winced. "Dad, I-"

"You never told me you've been seeing the Moon girl," Lucius said, glancing over his parchment. Had Draco's nerves not been so tightly strung, he might've noticed that Lucius didn't seem _that_ angry.

"Well, no," Draco managed, once his shock was underway, "I didn't think... I mean... you've got more important things to deal with, like... Potter. Have you any clue where _he_ is?"

Lucius ignored this not-so-subtle attempt to change the subject. "She was in your year at school, wasn't she?"

"Yes," Draco said, a bit sullenly.

"Is she at the Ministry as well?"

"No," Draco answered, "she's a Healer at St. Mungo's."

"And her family is one of pure blood, is it not?"

"Yes," Draco said, going a bit impatient himself with the interrogation.

"So do you intend to marry her?" Lucius asked, his voice deceptively mild.

"What?" Draco was startled.

"As I understand it," Lucius went on smoothly, "you've been seeing her fairly consistently for the past- what? - five months?"

"More like four," Draco said curtly, "and it's not- I mean, we're not- serious-" He broke off abruptly. What on earth was he saying? He'd come to tell his father he'd gotten Carina pregnant, and he was starting off by insisting they weren't serious?

"I see," Lucius said gravely, carefully rolling up the parchment to seal it.

"But then again, we have- considered, er... more," Draco said lamely.

Lucius raised an eyebrow, frowning. "But you're not serious?"

"Well-"

Draco was cut off abruptly by a harsh knock on the door.

"Who's there?" Lucius called, still frowning at Draco.

"It's me," came a raspy answer; Draco recognized the voice as Jugson's. A moment later, the door swung open to reveal the thin man who had let Draco through into the Death Eaters' hideout.

"Lucius," Jugson said instantly, "we've had word from- Draco." Jugson started visibly. "I didn't realize you were still here. You'd best get back to the manor; they're looking for you there-"

"For what?" Lucius demanded as Draco immediately got to his feet.

"It's your wife," Jugson said soberly. "She was- involved, in, er- the attack-"

Draco's blood ran cold. "What attack?" he demanded, looking from Jugson to his father. When no one answered him straightaway, he reiterated, "Dad, _what attack?_"

"That's impossible," Lucius said, coming to his feet and around the desk to look the man straight in the eye. "I warned her about it ahead of time; I made sure she knew exactly when and where _not_ to be! She wouldn't have been there for anything!"

"Been _where?_" Draco demanded.

Jugson shifted uneasily from one foot to another, looking uncertainly between the two Malfoy men. "Lucius, I- I'm sorry; I don't know what to tell you, but it was confirmed by several sources, including the Ministry- they've got her at St. Mungo's, and they're looking for you, Draco, at the manor, to let you know-"

"Draco-" Lucius began, but Draco didn't wait to hear it. He was gone before any more words could leave his father's lips.

- - - - -

When Ginny slipped back from troubled dreams into the conscious world, all was dark and she had no idea where she was or how she'd gotten there. Immediately alarmed and slightly panicked, she sat straight up and instantly regretted the movement. After a moment of intense pain, she glanced around wildly. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, but by the time they had, she'd realized she was in a comfortable, if somewhat high, bed. Her chest was aching, she was wearing a strange garment, and she couldn't quite remember what had recently happened. Then she realized she was in a hospital room, and it all came flooding back.

She knew she must have come out all right after the attack, if she was safely located in St. Mungo's, but fear for James seized her. She'd left him behind that bench- there'd been no safer place for him at the time. She'd meant to deal with the Death Eaters and then grab the boy and run to safety, but she'd never gotten that far. What had happened to James?

There was a small window in the wall to her right, and it was dark outside as well. Ginny realized it must be late at night. To her left were two more beds. She could just barely make out a sleeping figure in the bed beside her, but the last bed seemed to be empty.

A creaking sound, like that of an opening door, and the shuffling of more than one pair of feet alerted her to the area across the room. Directly across from her was a counter of some sort, with what looked like a sink. A curtain- which began at the far wall with the door, and ran just past Ginny's bed- covered the rest of the other side of the room. She heard lowered voices for a moment, but couldn't make out what they were saying. She quietly slipped out from under the covers, and carefully swung her legs around until they dangled off the edge of the bed. When she still could not make out any clear words, she leaned forward, ever so slightly. She failed to notice when she began to lose her balance, and with an almost silent squeak, tumbled to the floor. Her legs trembled, her chest felt on fire, and though she hastily grabbed onto the edge of the bed, her knees from gave out beneath her and she found herself on the floor.

She was certain she would've been heard, with all the commotion she was making, were it not for the fact that one of the occupants opposite the curtain had raised his voice until he was nearly shouting, all throughout her entire upheaval. She was shocked when she recognized the voice.

"So what are you saying? She's alive; you've just said that, so what's the problem?"

"Malfoy?" Ginny whispered, so silently she couldn't be heard. Curious, she crept forward on hands and knees until she sat at the edge of the curtain on the floor. She dared to peek around but only caught a brief glimpse of Draco Malfoy and a Healer clustered around someone in a bed in the far corner of the room, near the door. She whipped her head back around for fear of being seen and listened intently.

"Mr. Malfoy, please, keep your voice down," the Healer urged him. "There are patients sleeping just opposite here. Now... as to your mother..."

"Yes?" Malfoy demanded impatiently.

"The spell she was hit by- while it did not, in fact, take her life- caused permanent damage to her mind."

There was a pause. "Meaning what?" Malfoy asked. His voice sounded strained, as though he were having trouble breathing.

"Her mind is relatively... in pieces. Damaged beyond repair, and she-"

"What does that _mean?_" Malfoy reiterated, sounding desperate. "Are you saying she's insane?"

"Not precisely," the Healer replied, his voice calm but sympathetic. "What it means, Mr. Malfoy, is that her brain is... dead, as we know it. Yes, her heart is still beating, thus sustaining her life, but this coma she's slipped into... well, she won't ever be able to wake from it."

The pause, this time, was much longer. Ginny realized she was holding her breath. An odd feeling had settled in the pit of her stomach, and though she couldn't quite say what it was, it was horribly dreadful. The silence seemed to stretch forever, and then finally-

"Never?" Malfoy's voice was no more than a whisper.

"I'm afraid so," the Healer said, still professional but consoling.

"There's got to be some way-"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy."

"Don't tell me you're sorry!" Malfoy shot back furiously. "I don't care if you're sorry! I- she can't-"

"Mr. Malfoy, I realize this must be very difficult for you-"

"There has to be some way." Ginny started at the pleading tone Malfoy had taken. Pleading sounded odd coming from that usually cruel, drawling voice.

There was another awful pause, and then, "I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy." The Healer's voice had a note of finality to it this time. When Malfoy came up with no response, the Healer went on, "You can stay here if you like. In the morning, your mother will be moved to the ward for permanent spell damage." There was more shuffling of feet, and then the door opened and closed behind the Healer.

Ginny's chin drooped to her chest. She felt more horrible than she'd felt in a long time. Other than that instinctual sentiment, she didn't know what to think or feel. Surely this was what he deserved. Surely, after everything she and her family had suffered at the hands of the Death Eaters, _surely_ this was justified... but for some reason, she couldn't bring herself to really believe that. She hated herself for it; it felt terribly, terribly wrong. Surely it went against all ethical codes to feel badly for someone who'd so persistently hurt your family, someone who went to such great lengths to make you miserable...

"_Why_ were you there?" Ginny's head snapped back up, thinking Malfoy had seen her, but then she realized he was speaking to his comatose mum. "Why? I- you weren't supposed to be there, you _weren't-_"

His words ended abruptly, caught in an odd, choked sound that deepened and went on, shaky between small gasps for breath. Ginny was puzzled for a few seconds before she realized, with some shock, that he was crying. Swallowing hard, she dared to peer around the curtain to see him- not just crying, but weeping. He was hunched over a small table at the bedside, one hand desperately grasping the edge of the table for support and the other curled into a fist at his chest. Sobs racked his entire body. Ginny felt sick, hating this intense pity for a man she'd always considered an enemy. Shutting her eyes, as though to shut out his anguished sobs, she brought her head back from around the curtain and lowered it into her hands, feeling quite miserable. She vaguely thought that maybe she should try to get to her feet and somehow get back into bed, but suddenly, it all hurt too much to try and move and all.

So she sat there, eyes shut and curled up in a ball, until slowly, the sounds of Malfoy's pained tears lulled her into a deep sleep.

She dreamt of darkness and Death Eaters and attacks and babies crying and terror and screaming and running and curses and pain and Blaise and hopeless desperation. It seemed to go on for an eternity, and when she was none-too-gently kicked into consciousness, there was a small ray of sunlight streaming in through the small window.

"Weasley!"

Ginny blinked. She shifted slightly, still drowsy. After a moment's pause, she struggled to sit upright, in spite of protesting limbs and a groggy mind. Suddenly remembering her name being called, she glanced up sleepily, slightly uncertain. That white blond head, she knew him... "Malfoy?" she said vaguely. Alarms went off in her head as she identified him, but she was still too drowsy to remember why.

He scowled at her. "What in Merlin's name do you think you're doing?" he hissed.

"Huh?" Desperately, she attempted to get her bearings, glancing around the slightly familiar hospital room.

"What are you _doing?_ On the floor?"

Ginny blinked again, glancing down. Ah, yes, she _was_ on the floor. Struggling to remember why, she suddenly recalled what she'd heard last night, and she glanced up hastily at Malfoy with wide eyes.

"I was just... erm... I don't know," she finished lamely. She glared. "What business is it of yours, anyway?"

"Only returning a favor, Weasley," Malfoy said nastily. It took her a moment to realize he must be referring to the incident in the hospital wing at school a couple of months back.

Ginny sighed. "What time is it?" she asked, glancing around for some hint.

"Early morning," Malfoy said shortly, beginning to turn away from her. "You should get back to your bed, Weasley."

"Um... I can't," she threw after him, deeply humiliated that she had to admit this to him.

He glanced around at her with a puzzled, irritated look. "What?"

"I can't get up," Ginny muttered, evading his gaze.

"You _what?_"

"I think I fell out of bed," she said miserably, daring a quick glance at his face.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, looking somewhat bitterly amused. "What, and you just rolled all the way across the room?"

"Well-"

"What happened to you anyway?" he sneered, crossing back over to her but making no move to help her up.

"What do you care?" she snapped.

"I'm asking, aren't I?"

Ginny narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "Some curse," she said quietly, "in- Diagon Alley."

The effect of those words on Malfoy was amazing, He looked as though he'd just been slapped. It was only there for an instant, and then his usual sneer was back in place, this one particularly vicious. "What, can't hold your own anymore, Weasley? Can't defend yourself properly?"

"You mean since I hit you with that Bat-Bogey Hex back in school?" Ginny answered coolly. Malfoy's expression grew dark, and he opened his mouth to speak, but she went on.

"Anyway, for your information, I was somewhat hindered," Ginny told him. "Back in Diagon Alley, I mean. I had my nephew with me, my _infant_ nephew-" She shot him a deathly glare, "-whom I'm quite sure your Death Eater pals wouldn't have hesitated to kill."

She expected another retort, but what she got was something quite different. It was as though a transformation of sorts took place within him. No visible emotion passed over his face; his expression remained as impassive as ever, but for a moment, the battle of emotions wrestling inside of him was so vociferous that Ginny didn't need any sense except intuition to recognize it. He stared at Ginny for some time, regarding her very intently. Then, without a single word, he bent down- taking her by such surprise that she was fairly alarmed- and scooped her up into his arms, grunting slightly at the weight. "Which bed?"

"Er... the one by the window, there-"

He dropped her onto the bed, so abruptly, in fact, that any gratitude she felt towards him nearly disappeared completely. But before she could say anything, he turned to go. She was completely bewildered, and even more so when he paused in his exit, and then turned back to her.

"Your nephew," he said, watching her closely, "is he... all right?"

Ginny was surprised. This didn't seem anything like the Draco Malfoy she knew. Could this possibly have anything to do with what happened to his mum?

"I... don't know," she said honestly. "I was knocked out... woke up here, just last night-" She stopped short, dropping her gaze. When she glanced up again, Malfoy was gone, leaving her even more confused than she had been before.

- - - - -

Carina was exhausted. She'd been at work all night in the hospital, as they'd needed every spare hand, including those in training. It was early morning now, and most of the patients brought in from the attack on Diagon Alley had been taken care of. With a weary sigh, she slumped onto a bench along the side of the corridor, shutting her eyes.

It barely registered in her mind when someone sat down beside her a moment later. She didn't bother to open her eyes to look. It wasn't until the queried, "Busy night?" that her eyes flew open.

"Draco," she said, startled. "What are you doing-" She broke off, their last encounter at the manor coming to mind. Eyes narrowing, she crossed her arms stubbornly. "What do you want?"

Surprisingly, he didn't answer right away, neither to snap back at her nor defend himself and his actions. He only looked at her. He seemed... tired and... something else. There was something about him that seemed strangely out of place.

"Draco?" Carina prompted.

"I need to talk to you," he said simply. Everything about him, in the way he spoke, the way he held himself, the expression on his face- it all seemed very restrained, which was not the way Carina was used to seeing Draco Malfoy.

Without any other explanation, he rose from the bench and started off down the corridor. Unnerved, and just a bit irritated that he so confidently expected her to follow, she went after him.

He didn't go far, but held the door open into an unoccupied room nearby. Arms still crossed suspiciously, she stepped inside and immediately whirled around to face him as he shut the door behind himself.

"What's this all about, Draco?" she demanded. "What's going on? If this is another attempt to get me to marry you, I-"

"It's not," he cut in. He sounded slightly annoyed, but she was also stunned to hear his voice shake. "Look. I can't be here long- I _shouldn't_ be here long- but this is... important." Draco sighed, shutting his eyes as though in pain.

Carina had never seen him like this before. His face was very white, and she suddenly realized his tense restraint was an attempt to keep his trembling limbs in check.

Against the reasoning voices in her mind, she stepped towards him, but before she could even reach out for him, he jerked back. She frowned, but waited for him to speak.

"I..." Draco took a deep breath, "...don't think we should get married." She must have looked shocked, or questioning, because he reiterated firmly, "We can't."

"I... er, all right," Carina agreed hesitantly. This was good... wasn't it? "Erm- why?" That didn't quite come out the way she'd meant it to, but when he spoke, it was as though he hadn't even heard her, as though he were speaking recited words and couldn't deviate from them.

"In fact, we can't- I can't-" he cleared his throat. "We can't... be together. Do this together. I mean... I can't..." He took another breath. "No one should know that I'm the father."

If Carina hadn't been shocked before, she was now, and quite sure that it showed. He wasn't serious, was he? "Draco, we've been dating for months. I think most people will realize that-"

"I don't care. Lie. Say it's someone else," Draco said resolutely. "In fact, that would even explain why we're not together anymore-"

"Are you saying-" Carina broke off, shaking her head. Her mind was doing its usual reasoning, trying to convince her that this wasn't necessarily _bad_ news for her, but in spite of that, it seemed surreal. She couldn't _believe_ he was actually willing to do this- it was the last thing in the world she ever would ever expect from him. "You don't want to be a part of this at all?"

Draco shut his eyes, letting out a huge breath. "It's not really about want," he muttered, and though it was not for her ears, she heard him.

She was perplexed. "I don't understand," she confessed. "Why in the world-"

"It doesn't matter why," he snapped. "I just- I can't-" He stopped and swallowed. There was a pause that seemed to last forever, and then he shook his head.

"I'm sorry," he said.

Then he turned away from her and left the room.

It wasn't the words of his parting that shocked her. It was how much it sounded as though he actually meant it.


	5. Chapter Four

**Author Notes: **I feel like not a lot happens in this chapter, because originally there was more content, but it was turning out too long so I cut it in half. Anyway, enjoy.

**Chapter Four**

_January, 2005_

"I must say, Draco, it's quite a surprise to find you here."

Draco sighed. "It's a surprise to be here," he said dully.

Lupin eyed him calmly over the desk. "Oh?"

"If someone had told me half a year ago that I'd be here, in this position, I would have laughed in their face," Draco said, more out of musing to himself than in response to Lupin.

"Then why are you here?" Lupin prompted.

Draco set his attention back to his former professor. "I... was thinking I could maybe be of some-" He swallowed, "-use to you."

"In what way?"

"Well, with the war, of course," Draco snapped. "What else? I'm not so skilled in potion-making that I could drudge up the Wolfsbane Potion for you every month, like Snape-" He cut himself off abruptly, wishing he hadn't mentioned Snape.

Lupin's gaze grew very intent, but apart from that, Draco couldn't tell whether he was angry or suspicious or just plain indifferent at the mention of Snape. "Who killed him, Draco?" he asked, watching Draco closely, as though for some hint of an answer. "And why?"

"I don't know." Draco shrugged uncomfortably, an edge of irritation lining his voice. He didn't come here to talk about Snape, and what did the werewolf care, anyway? Snape was dead. Did it really matter whose side he'd really been on? "One of your lot Stunned me pretty early on, so I didn't see who killed him, or what happened."

"My lot?" Lupin raised his eyebrows.

"Yes," Draco drawled, "your lot. Your order."

If Lupin was either affronted or surprised by these words, he didn't show it, which only irritated Draco even more. "So you want to help with the war," Lupin said quietly, returning to the matter at hand. He paused, looking as though he were considering his next words very carefully. "I'm curious, Draco, as to why you thought to come to me about this?" Lupin's expression was carefully mild, deceptively innocent.

"I've just told you," Draco said flatly.

Lupin eyed him with an expression of innocence. "Told me what?"

Draco bit his tongue on a sarcastic reply and simply said, "Look, I- I've heard rumors."

"From fellow Death Eaters?"

Draco stared at him, somewhat petulant in his desire to remain silent.

Lupin sighed. "Do you have some information regarding Voldemort or the Death Eaters?"

Wishing the werewolf didn't so readily say the Dark Lord's name, Draco answered guardedly, "I might. Depends on what you want to know."

Lupin seemed to take this into consideration for some time. Draco was not a patient man, but he forced himself to remain silent and wait for a response. When it came, it was much as he expected. He would have been suspicious if Lupin had blindly trusted him.

"Why do you want to do this, Draco?"

"Well, mostly," he drawled, "because the alternative leaves... much to be desired."

Lupin studied him over the steeple of his fingertips. "Being a Death Eater, you mean?"

"That," Draco said dryly, "and being killed."

"So you want protection?" Lupin pressed.

Draco's mouth twisted. "My father seems to think I'll be protected enough if I return to... serving the Dark Lord faithfully." He laughed shortly, but there was no mirth in it. "The Dark Lord. Bleeding sack full of dung, more like. That's all that's left of him, isn't it?"

"So it appears." Lupin's eyes narrowed. "And you think your father might force you to continue as a Death Eater?"

Draco cocked his head to the side. "He would never force me, but there are... complications." He expected the next query to be about these 'complications,' but instead, Lupin asked,

"About your father... you know where he is?"

"No," Draco said without batting an eyelash. He felt no remorse over the lie. After all, he wasn't offering to help the order because he'd had a sudden attack of conscience. He was offering to help the order because it was currently the best way to stay alive and well, and to keep what was his alive and well. He would do what was necessary to stay alive, and betraying his father's whereabouts was not necessary. "But my father has his ways. I've had... messages." Draco was deliberately vague, and he hoped that this wasn't obvious to Lupin.

Lupin raised an eyebrow. "But these messages gave you no indication of where he might be?"

_Damn him_. "Look, I don't know where he is," Draco said shortly, "and truthfully, even if I did, I don't know that I'd tell you."

Lupin nodded and eyed him appraisingly. "So Lucius wants you to renew your... commitments to the Dark Lord. But you say he won't force you?" he asked, frowning.

"No, he wouldn't, not precisely," Draco agreed, relieved to lead the subject away from his father's whereabouts, "but there are ways- things- he could use to control me."

Again, Draco waited for a request to explain how he could be controlled, but something else came. "This may seem an odd question to you," Lupin said, "but... why don't you want to serve Voldemort anymore?"

Draco stared at him. "That _is_ an odd question, especially from you."

"From me, yes," Lupin agreed, "but not for you."

This implication aggravated Draco. "Look, if you think that, just because my father-"

"Forgive me, Draco, but my reasons for asking have nothing to do with your father," Lupin interrupted, his eyes hardening. "They have to do with the mark on your arm and the actions you committed which earned you five years in prison."

Draco clamped his mouth shut, his emotions shutting down. He would not discuss that. He would not even think of those years, he just _couldn't_.

"And forgive me for being frank, Draco," Lupin went on, "but I think you generally hold the same beliefs as your father, and that of the Death Eaters, and of Voldemort himself."

Draco's lips twisted. "You're talking about Muggleborns now."

Lupin gave a single nod. "That I am."

There was a silence. Draco considered many lies, and then decided to go with honesty, as overrated as it was. "Yeah, all right," he heard himself say. "I don't like Muggleborns. I don't think they should be... allowed. Period. But I..." A shock of fear ran through Draco, and he shook his head. "Leave it to someone else. Not me. It's too far, too dangerous. I don't want to kill like that, I don't want to-" He stopped, well aware that he was babbling and coming across as a frightened, edgy rat.

"That's all well and good, Draco," Lupin broke in, a dismissive air to his tone, "and I believe you completely, but you said it yourself- leave it to someone else. That doesn't explain why you yourself want to join me and others in actually fighting _against_-"

"For Merlin's sake, Lupin, there are bigger things at risk here!" Draco burst out furiously, unable to contain himself any longer. "Don't you understand? It's not just me, it's-" He caught himself a second before he let it all out. Breathing very heavily, he got to his feet. He couldn't stand it any longer. "Look, if you're not going to help me, and I suppose I'm not surprised, then I should just-"

"This has to do with Miss Moon," Lupin said very calmly.

Draco froze. He stared at Lupin. "What?"

Lupin nodded for Draco to take his seat, but when he didn't, the werewolf went on anyway. "You're doing this for Carina," he said, his manner suddenly pleasant, "and for your child."

Draco felt as though his insides were frozen. "I don't know what you mean."

"Mr. Malfoy-" and Draco nearly jumped with the change of address, "-I think you know very well what I mean. Please, sit down."

They were polite words, but Draco collapsed into the chair as though it were the only act that could save his life. "She told you," he said flatly. "She wasn't supposed to tell any-"

"Yes, she did," Lupin confirmed, "though you needn't worry. I assure you I am not about to tell your father, or anyone else, that Carina is expecting your child."

Draco was no longer breathing hard, in fact, he had forgotten to breathe at all. He shook his head, utterly overwhelmed.

"So I would assume," Lupin went on, "that you fear that, should your father discover that Carina's child is yours, he, along with the rest of the Death Eaters, might use this as a method to control you."

Draco nodded, but his thoughts were elsewhere. He let out a huge breath and slumped in his chair. "Why?"

"Pardon?"

"Why did she tell you?" Draco demanded. "I mean, are you honestly- I mean to say, what did she expect _you_ to do about it?"

Lupin eyed Draco with a scrutinizing gaze. There was a very long pause. He seemed to be considering Draco.

"She wanted advice," Lupin finally said, "and that is really all I can, at my discretion, say. If you want to know more, I suggest you ask her yourself."

But Draco wasn't really listening. He narrowed his eyes, the gears in his mind working furiously. "She works for you, doesn't she?" he demanded, glancing up at Lupin to see the werewolf's reaction. Secretly, he was hoping it wasn't true; the idea was ludicrous, surely?

Lupin coughed uncertainly, averting his eyes. "Draco, that is not-"

"She-" Draco blinked in astonishment, feeling as though he'd been gutted with the realization. "She told you about the baby because she's reporting to you," he finished, his eyes widening. "She's- she's been _spying_ on me?"

"Draco-"

"She's been _spying_ on me!" Draco thundered, springing out of his chair. "That's what this is all about, that's what's been going on for- how long, Lupin? Since you found out we were dating, and decided to use it to your advantage? Or before that, is that _why_-"

"Draco, sit _down_." Lupin rose to his feet, looking quite cross. "That is irrelevant. What matters-"

"No, no what's _irrelevant_ is this entire meeting!" Draco shouted, "because all that _matters_ is that you and your lot, you self-righteous Mudbloods and half-breeds and blood traitors, will never trust me, will you?"

"Well, why should we?" Lupin came around his desk, suddenly quite furious himself. "Tell me, Draco, what have you ever done that should give us reason to trust you?"

"It was all a lie, wasn't it?" Draco shook his head, laughing in spite of himself. "All that piffle Dumbledore tossed at me the night he died, about you lot helping me-"

"What on earth are you talking about?" Lupin demanded.

"Oh, bugger it," Draco spat. "It doesn't matter. I must have been starkers to think I could come to _you_ for protection-"

"Shall I assume you'll be taking it from the Death Eaters instead, then?" Lupin asked coolly.

Draco stared at him, fury boiling in his chest. Without another world, he whirled around to stalk out of the room.

"Draco!" Lupin called after him. "Draco, we can still help you! You have choices besides death and joining the ranks of Voldemort-"

"Yeah, well, looks like I'm going to have to make my own choices," Draco muttered, reaching for the door handle.

"Draco," Lupin said one last time, a note of warning to his voice.

Draco yanked the door open, but with a sigh, he turned back to Lupin.

"You want to protect Carina and her child." Lupin smiled ironically. "Well, and yourself, of course. And that, we can help you with."

Essentially, his assessment was correct, though Draco wasn't sure about the Carina part. He liked her well enough, he supposed, but had it been her alone, he didn't think he would have taken the risk by offering himself to Lupin. But the baby...

Draco set himself firmly. "It's my child," he said, and he felt an oddly reckless streak come through him. "It's my child, and I'll be damned before I see it in anyone else's power."

- - - - -

Ginny sighed, staring around the massive entrance hall surrounding her. She'd had a long day. An exhausting, miserable, life-changing day, and on top of that, she wasn't at all feeling well. She was fairly certain she'd forgotten to take one of her potions- she had several to take after the curse she'd been hit with in Diagon Alley several weeks before- and all she wanted to do was get this farce of a task over with and get home, so that she could go to bed.

But here she was. Waiting in the entrance hall of Malfoy bloody Manor for that Death Eater ponce to show his ratty face. By the time he actually _did_ show, she'd made herself comfortable in a chair near the stairwell, arms folded over her chest and scowl in place.

Malfoy approached her with a sneer, and he raised his eyebrows when he found her making herself at home in _his_ chair. "What in Merlin's name are _you_ doing here?" he demanded, his eyes narrowed. "I've enough of harassment from Aurors, thank you very much. I don't know where my father is, and I've done my time in prison, so I haven't anything to-"

"I'm not here on Auror business," Ginny interrupted with some exasperation, the mere mention of _Aurors_ startling her. "So you don't need to recite your polished _lies_ for me."

"I'm touched by your trust in me, Weasley," Malfoy said dryly. "If you're not here officially, then I've nothing to say to you. You can show yourself out," he finished, turning away.

"You're being stupid, you know," Ginny called after him, "though I can't say I'm surprised. You haven't showed much common sense in the past, so why start now?"

Malfoy stopped in his tracks, throwing a speculative glance at Ginny over his shoulder. "You were never really friends with her, were you?"

Ginny blinked. "What?"

"You probably never even saw her," he went on, turning around to face her, his hands stuffed in his pockets. "At least, not outside of your little order get-togethers."

"You..." Ginny shook her head, vaguely confused. "You're talking about Carina?"

"You were in on it, too, weren't you?" A fierce glare spread across Malfoy's face, marring his aristocratic features. "_Spying_ on me. I knew I was running into you just a touch too often. And to think-" He laughed suddenly, catching Ginny off-guard, "to think that I actually believed you two were _friends_. You, friends with Carina Moon."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Ginny demanded, her temper flaring. She wanted to spring to her feet and slap him across the face, but the thought of coming to her feet tired her even more than she already was.

Malfoy smirked. "Only that you don't seem much her type, Weasley."

"Well," Ginny said coolly, "I guess you aren't really hers, either."

He didn't seem as angry as he ought to have been, considering Carina had cheated on him and gotten pregnant by someone else. He scowled at her, but it seemed half-hearted. "Get out of my house, Weasley. I already told your werewolf pal that I don't want any part of you lot."

"Which is why I'm _here_, Malfoy." Ginny glared, forcing her next words out between gritted teeth. "Lupin sent me to-"

"Oh, of course!" Malfoy interjected. "_Lupin_ sent you. Sent you to, what, finish his botched job? Convince me to run to your order for help?"

"Isn't that what you did?"

"A brief lapse in judgment, Weasley." Malfoy sneered. "Needless to say, I've since changed my mind. Get. Out."

Ginny felt her ire rising rapidly. She was so heated with frustration- frustration with this _prat_, frustration with Lupin for even considering this- that she actually felt as though she were growing hot, a light sheen of sweat dampening her hairline. "Do you think I want this anymore than you do?" she demanded angrily. "Really? You think I want to _help_ you, Merlin's sake, to _work_ with you-"

"I'm quite sure you don't," Malfoy said coldly.

"You're right." Ginny dug her nails into the arms of her chair, both out of irritation and discomfort; it was taking so much effort just to focus on talking to him. "I don't. So I certainly wouldn't waste my time on you if I didn't think-"

"Think _what_, Weasley?" Malfoy spat. "That it would be worth it, somehow? Well, you're going to be sorely disappointed, then, because I already told you that I don't know where my father is, and I have nothing else to say on anything to do with-"

"Malfoy." Ginny threw a hand out in front of her, as though to stem his sullen tirade. "That wasn't at all what I was talking about. I meant-"

"Wasn't it?" Malfoy's eyes narrowed in a suspicious glare. "What else could you want from me, then? It isn't as though you..." His eyes widened. "No."

"Malfoy," Ginny sighed, wishing he would shut up and let her finish, so she could go home. "Just-"

"No!" he exclaimed, taking her by surprise. His voice was so strident that Ginny felt as though he'd knocked her head around with the word. "She hasn't- I don't believe it- does the whole _bleeding_ order know? Has she told _everyone?_"

"What?" Confused, Ginny shook her head and shut her eyes. She really was feeling very hot all of a sudden, which was strange, considering it was the dead of winter and she was stuck inside a drafty old manor.

"That stupid little bint!" Malfoy shouted. Ginny winced, wishing he would lower his voice; she really couldn't concentrate over the noise. What on earth was he talking about, anyway? Had he just called her a bint? Or, no, he was talking about someone else... wasn't he?

"...I don't care if she _was_ spying on me!" Ginny shook her head, trying to focus on Malfoy. "How can she expect to keep the baby safe if she runs off prattling to all her friends?"

"Baby?" Ginny murmured, but Malfoy didn't seem to have heard her. Baby... spying on him... was he talking about Carina again? Ginny shut her eyes and swallowed, trying to breathe evenly and _think_. What possible interest could he have in Carina's baby? What would he care if it was _safe_; Carina had cheated on him, and the baby wasn't his...

Ginny blinked several times; her vision had seemed a bit fuzzy for a moment, but she hardly paid it any attention, her mind stuck on a sudden realization. _The baby isn't his... is it?_ Ginny's eyes widened. So _that_ was why he'd gone to Lupin, not only for himself, but for-

Malfoy was still yelling about the baby, about Carina, but he finally fell silent when she lurched to her feet, feeling the blood drain from her face.

"Carina... you..." Ginny shook her head, the shock and exhaustion suddenly all too much. "The baby is _yours?_"

Malfoy's eyes widened and he went rigidly still, as he seemed to realize that she hadn't known. He opened his mouth to speak, but shut it suddenly, looking faintly puzzled. "Weasley?"

That was the last she heard. Everything suddenly began to spin uncertainly, and the pounding in her head seemed to reach a crescendo. Then the fatigue, the heat, everything seemed to crash over her, and she fell into a black void of unconsciousness.

- - - - -

"Shit," Draco muttered, for what seemed like the millionth time, as he dropped Ginny Weasley onto a sofa in the drawing room. She'd collapsed. Just _collapsed_, right then and there, while he was in the middle of shouting at her. What in the bloody hell was _wrong_ with her?

Once she was settled, he stepped back and shut his eyes briefly. She hadn't known. She hadn't _known_, about the baby, and he'd all but told her. Frustrated, Draco raked a hand through his hair and shook his head. He needed to think, to get his head straight. _Right, well, it's not like she'll tell anyone._ What did she have to gain by doing that? Even if she wasn't really friends with Carina, they were in the bloody order together, so surely Weasley wouldn't want anything to happen to her. Draco sneered. She was a bloody Gryffindor, of _course_ she wouldn't want anything to happen to Carina. Just on principle, she'd probably keep her bloody mouth shut.

And that was if she even remembered any of this when she woke up. Which she probably wouldn't, Draco reasoned, as he leaned forward to get a better look at her. Her freckled face had gone ashen, though her cheeks were flushed red. Cringing a little as he did so, Draco tentatively reached out and touched two fingertips to her forehead, only for a very brief, very quick moment. Merlin, she was burning up. What in the hell was wrong with her?

Well, he certainly didn't want anything to happen to her in _his_ house. Not because he cared, by any means, but he didn't want to be blamed for this. Which meant the best thing to do was wake her up and send her packing.

"Right then." Draco sighed wearily and perched on the very edge of the sofa. Leveling his wand at her, he murmured, "_Ennervate_."

Weasley stirred, her eyelids fluttering. When she turned her head in his direction, it slipped off of the armrest with a _thud_, and her eyes flew open with a flash of pain. "Ow..." she mumbled.

Draco snickered. "What in the hell is wrong with you, Weasley?"

"Huh... wh-what? Mal- foy?" Struggling to sit up, she turned an unfocused gaze on him, and Draco was startled by the feverish glaze veiling her eyes. Perhaps she was even more ill than he'd thought. "What's..." Her words ended in a soft groan as she reached a hand to her head.

"Are you sick or something?"

"I..." Weasley blinked slowly. "I need my potion."

"What _potion?_" Draco folded his arms over his chest.

"My..." She flopped back against the sofa, as though she were simply too exhausted to sit upright any longer. "I think I forgot to take my potion," she croaked.

"Oh, sweet Merlin," Draco muttered, dropping his face in his hand. _Really, this is just what I needed today. A crazy, feverish blood traitor, collapsed in my drawing room_. "Look, Weasley, just get up, and you can Floo home. Unless you want to try Apparating like this and splinch yourself." Now that was an appealing idea.

Weasley, however, didn't seem to have heard him. "Malfoy... just..." The rest of her words were nothing more than an incoherent mumble as her eyes slowly shut and she began to slip back into sleep.

"Weasley. Wake up." Her eyes flew open with a gasp as Draco took her by the arms and forcibly hauled her to her feet. But when she stumbled and pitched forward, knocking her head _hard_ into Draco's chest, he began to rethink the idea of Flooing her home.

"Damn it," he muttered, practically pushing her back onto the sofa. "Well, clearly you shouldn't Floo home like this."

She looked at him through hooded eyes, and for a moment, she seemed lucid. And suspicious. "Why would you care?"

"I don't relish being thrown in prison again for _damaging_ one of the Ministry's prize Aurors," he drawled. When she only blinked in response, he crossed the room and stepped out into the hall to find a house elf and call for a fever-reducing potion. It would make her a little loopy, but then again, she already seemed to be deluded.

Most certainly deluded, because when he came back into the drawing room, it was to find the redheaded bint giggling like a madwoman. "Merlin, Weasley, have you gone completely off your rocker?" he demanded.

"I'm- I'm not," she managed to get out between giggles.

"Not stark raving mad?" Rolling his eyes, Draco crossed the room to face her. "Because that's where you're wrong. You're completely-"

"I'm not an Auror anymore." She stopped laughing abruptly as soon as she spoke the words, as though shocked by her own admission. "I- I'm not..."

Draco shook his head. Not an Auror anymore? She really had lost her marbles. "What do you mean, you're not an Auror? If this is some trick to get me to let my guard down-"

"They said I spent too much time on Blaise." Draco glanced at her sharply and was startled by how somber she'd become within a few seconds. Her eyes had gone wide, but she wasn't looking at him. Instead, she stared at her hands, hanging limply in her lap. She looked... defeated. "They said it was affecting my... work. I guess." She laughed again, or tried to, but it came out more like a half-sob. "Do you think he could possibly be alive?" she asked, glancing up at him suddenly.

Draco couldn't really say why, but the hope in her eyes- raw, vulnerable, so completely exposed- awakened a strange, crushing sensation in his chest. The sensation was foreign and uncomfortable, and Draco turned away suddenly. "Look, Weasley, you- oh, good, here," he said, eager to see that the elf had returned with the potion. "Take this, and I'm going to Floo someone to get you home."

"Are you trying to kill me?" she asked, taking the small vial and staring at its contents with a dubious expression.

"If only," Draco said between clenched teeth. "Just take the damn potion, Weasley," he said, crossing the room to the fireplace. "You may feel a little disoriented, but unfortunately, it won't kill you."

With a heavy sigh, Draco took a handful of Floo powder and paused before the fireplace. Just who, exactly, was he supposed to Floo? He shuddered at the thought of contacting another Weasley. That was out of the question. Lupin, perhaps? But as silly as it was, Draco simply didn't want to speak to the werewolf again so soon. He'd already tried going to him for help once, and the thought of doing it again- even on behalf of a Weasley- was intolerable.

That really only left him one choice, didn't it?

Snarling to himself, Draco tossed the Floo powder into the fireplace and shouted the name of his location, grimacing at the prospect of speaking to-

"Oy! Granger! I know you're still there; surely you don't-"

"Malfoy?" The Mudblood cut through his words as she came into view in her office.

"-leave work until two in the morning," Draco finished. He smirked. "I see I was right."

Granger scowled, folding her arms over her chest. "Well, I can't afford to leave too early, can I? Not when there are criminals like _you_ roaming the streets."

"I did my time, if you'll recall," Draco answered coolly.

"Not nearly enough time," she snapped. "What do you want, Malfoy? I can't imagine what on earth could prompt you to actually _contact_ Auror intelligence. Usually, we're the ones after you."

Draco bit his tongue on another insult. He didn't have time for this; he just wanted the little weasel gone. "Well, your precious order decided to send someone to my _home_ to pester me-"

"I don't know what order you're talking about."

"Of course you don't." Draco rolled his eyes. "Anyway, so I've got Weasley here, delusional with fever. I don't know-"

"_Ron_ is at your _house?_" she cut in, horrified.

"I meant the she-Weasley, Granger. Really, I know it's so hard to keep track of them all, but-"

"Oh, dear. Ginny's ill? She must've forgotten to take one of her potions," Granger worried.

At the mention of the potion again, Draco's curiosity got the better of him. "Yes, she said something about that. What potion?"

"She has to take several after she was hit by that curse in Diagon Alley," Granger said absently, looking as though she'd completely forgotten who she was talking to. "It's the same one _I_ got hit by fifth year when-" She broke off, snapping out of her daze, and sent Draco a sharp look. "Are you sure about this, Malfoy, or have you done something to her?"

"Why do you think I'm so eager to get her out of my house, Granger?" Draco bit back nastily. "I know you lot are just looking for another excuse to lock me up-"

"All right, all right. I suppose she's too ill to travel?"

"Would I be wasting my time speaking to you if she weren't?"

"Fine." Granger sighed. "I'll be there in five minutes. I don't suppose you'll let your wards down so I can Apparate straight in there?"

Draco sneered. "It takes _hours_ to get those wards down, Mudblood. Besides, I wouldn't-"

"Fine, then I'll be there in _ten_ minutes. Goodbye."

Scowling, Draco pulled his head from the fireplace. Merlin, but that jumped-up Mudblood irritated him even more than Potter and all the Weasleys put together. _Well, maybe not Potter_, he mused, ambling over to the sofa.

The little weasel was asleep again, or so he thought, but when he reached her side her eyes flew open. Much to his surprise and utter dismay, she smiled lazily at him. "Hey, you."

Clearly, the fever-reducing potion had worked. If Ginny Weasley, gazing up at him with something almost like adoration, wasn't the craziest thing he'd ever seen, then he didn't know what was. "You're barmy, Weasley," he informed her. "Absolutely nutters."

"Well, that's no way to talk to me." She scowled and folded her arms over her chest, even though her eyes still sparkled in amusement, as though the show of annoyance was just that- nothing more than a put-on. "After you've been gone for so long."

"Merlin, weasel, I was gone for two minutes, talking to that Mudblood Granger." Draco rolled his eyes. "I'd hardly call that lo-"

"_Don't_, I'm being serious." Before he could react, she snatched him up by the wrist and yanked him into the sofa beside her. He was so startled that he didn't even have time to pull away. Draco opened his mouth to deliver another nasty insult when she added, "And I've told you not to call her that, Blaise."

Draco froze, his wrist still clutched in Weasley's hand. He didn't even notice as her fingers slid down his palm to entwine with his. All of a sudden, the situation- which had been both annoying and amusing- didn't seem very funny anymore.

She thought he was Zabini. She was delirious, _Merlin_, she thought he was her dead boyfriend. Something violent and unexpected knotted in the pit of his stomach, and Draco felt like he was going to be sick. He couldn't say why this bothered him so much- she was a bloody _Weasley_, after all, he should have found this perfectly hilarious- and yet, he couldn't help the nausea roiling inside him.

The strange impulse made him want to run, but with Weasley's hand locked around his, her dark eyes boring into him, he found he couldn't move an inch. "Everyone thinks you're dead, you know," she said, and her tone was so completely unruffled that it unnerved him even more, "but that hasn't stopped me. And look, now you're back. I knew you would be."

Draco couldn't stand to hear anymore. "Weasley, I'm not-"

"But why were you gone for so long?" And if she'd been calm and composed before, she was anything but now. Without warning, her eyes filled with tears, her expression twisting into a picture of distress. "I missed you so much," she whispered shakily.

"Weasley, I'm _not Blaise_." Practically squirming in discomfort, Draco tried to pull his hand away, but her grip tightened and she grabbed a hold of his other hand, pulling him closer.

"Don't," she said sharply. "Please, Blaise... don't leave. Not again."

Draco couldn't think, not with her so close to him, with her hands entwined in his. He couldn't breathe; he felt as though he were going to pass out. She leaned closer, and everything around her seemed to be fading into blackness.

He couldn't get his head straight. He tried to conjure up familiar thoughts and feelings; he tried to remember that she was a Weasley, and a Gryffindor, part of the bloody Order. He tried to recall every old prejudice, tried to focus on the fact that she was a _blood traitor_, a filthy disgrace to any pureblood.

But he couldn't remember any of those things. He could only remember the strange feeling he'd always had around her, the strange thoughts that ran through his mind when anyone mentioned her name.

Like the time he'd first seen her, when he was only twelve years old and trading jibes with Potter in a bookshop, and she'd stood up for Scarface and something almost like... _envy_ had surged through him. And when she'd sent Potter that ridiculous Valentine, and it was so _pathetic_ that it enraged him, far more than it should have. And when she'd cast that Bat-Bogey Hex on him... and he should have hated her for it, and he _did_ hate her for it, but at the same time, her fierceness had awakened something in him, something that was frighteningly like... respect.

He'd always squashed these feelings as soon as they'd surfaced, before he could really decipher what they meant. But now, as she gazed at him, thinking he was her dead lover, for a moment- just a moment- he let those strange feelings surface... and stay.

So when she leaned in towards him, he didn't even think twice as he brushed his lips over hers. Once, twice, before she deepened the kiss, closing the last bit of distance between them. And any last thoughts Draco had about her being a Weasley, a blood traitor, completely slipped from his mind as he lost himself in the sheer intimacy between them. But then she slipped one of her hands from his to wrap it behind his neck, and something inside of him snapped- the touch of her fingers on the back of his neck was like a sharp jolt of reality, and he pulled back so quickly it stung.

The intimacy wasn't between them. It was between her and Zabini.

Weasley's expression was startled and confused when he broke away, so startled that she let go of his hand in surprise. Before either one of them could say anything- before Draco could discern whether or not she still thought he was Zabini- a house elf entered to announce the Mudblood's arrival, and Draco leapt off the sofa so fast that he barely remembered making his way into the entrance hall.

He traded a few halfhearted insults with Granger in a daze as he led her into the drawing room, his thoughts muddled with strange feelings he couldn't sort out quickly enough. As he stepped into the drawing room, he experienced a fleeting panic that Weasley would say something about the kiss, especially if she was still out of it. But when he brought Granger into the room, they found the little weasel once again asleep, her fiery red hair covering the sofa around her.

"Oh, dear." Granger sighed. "Well, I suppose she can side-along Apparate with me like this."

Draco didn't answer, due to the fact that he really wasn't listening. He only stared at Weasley, entranced by the vividly red mass draped over his sofa. Before he could stop himself, he asked, "Whatever happened to the nephew?"

"Excuse me?" Granger turned on him with a suspicious gaze. "What on earth are you talking about?"

Feeling rather stupid now, Draco snapped, "Her nephew, Granger, wasn't he at Diagon Alley when it was attacked, last month?"

"Ye-es." Granger watched him astutely, and Draco had the uncomfortable feeling that she could see right through him. "He's fine. I got to him before Ginny was even knocked out. Why do you ask?"

Wishing he hadn't asked, Draco shot back, "Never mind, Mudblood. Just get out of my house."

Once they were gone, Draco retired to the lounge and poured himself glass after glass of Firewhiskey, in an attempt to purge himself of the tumultuous storm raging through him. But no matter how much he drank, he couldn't seem to see anything past that vividly red hair, spread over his sofa like a blanket of rose petals. 


	6. Chapter Five

**Author Notes: **So, remember how I said the last chapter and this chapter were supposed to be one, butit got too long so I split it into two? Well, it actually ended up being so long it's been split into _three_ chapters. So last chapter, and this chapter, and next chapter were originally all supposed to be one chapter. Yikes.

Just so you know, you can check out my livejournal- http://littlebit-liz. for cookies and progress updates. I post there as well, but not necessarily earlier than on this site.

**Chapter Five**

_May, 2005_

Ginny blew out a silent breath as she and Hermione exited Auror Headquarters through the double doors and stepped out into the blissfully empty corridor. Hermione shot her a sidelong glance, a shrewd gleam in her eyes. "Ginny-"

"So, no new attacks or threats since last month, then?" Ginny cut in, her voice just a little too bright. When Hermione furrowed her brow, she clarified, "Ron, I mean."

"No, nothing, but you know that." Judging by the knowing expression on Hermione's face, she was not to be deterred. "We would have told you if there was. Ginny-"

Ginny sighed. "I'm fine. I'm fine, all right? I'm doing just peachy without being an Auror."

"You know, it's only meant to be a temporary suspension," Hermione lectured, "if you would just follow their request and talk to someone-"

"I do not need psychological treatment, Hermione," Ginny said crossly, "and that said, the 'suspension' is permanent, as far as I'm concerned. Besides, I love my new job."

"Working in the twins' shop?" Hermione asked, a dubious expression crossing her face.

"It's quite profitable, you know. I'm getting a fairly large cut, because lately I've been helping them develop new products."

"Serving as their test subject, you mean?"

"More than that." Ginny shot her a nasty look. "Anyway, it's... fun. Light and entertaining, which can hardly be said for being an Auror."

Hermione shook her head. "Well, I suppose. But, Ginny-"

"Wait, hold the lift!" Ginny called ahead, both to interrupt Hermione and to stall the closing grille at the end of the corridor. She and Hermione broke into a run, and as Ginny reached the lift and stuck a foot inside to stop the doors from closing, she glanced up to apologize. "Sorry about-"

She broke off, only just managing to keep her jaw from dropping open agape. In her haste, she hadn't even realized that the person inside the lift was Draco Malfoy. He raised his eyebrows at her, his forehead creased in irritation. "Weasley," he said, but if he meant to add something rude onto the greeting, he was interrupted as Hermione caught up behind her.

"Ginny, what are- oh." Her breathless words ended abruptly as she spotted Malfoy, who shot her a nasty glare in return. For a moment, they only stared at him, until he opened his mouth to say something, a scowl coming over his face. But again, before he could get a word out, an impatient voice from behind asked, "Are you taking the lift or not?"

"Oh- sorry-" Hermione said hastily, bustling inside with Ginny so that the two wizards waiting behind them could step in. Ginny opened her mouth to protest; she was going to suggest they wait for another lift, but, she supposed it would have been too much trouble with people waiting behind them. So instead, she settled uncomfortably against the back wall, crossing her arms over her chest. She flinched unwillingly when her elbow brushed Malfoy's arm, but Hermione stood squashed into the back corner on Ginny's left, so she didn't have any room to move away from him.

They all waited in tense silence as they descended to the third level, where the two impatient wizards who'd gotten in after them left the lift, and several flying memos fluttered inside. Hermione breathed an audible sigh of relief as the doors shut, and she moved out of the corner to the front of the lift. Equally relieved, Ginny inched away from Malfoy, settling herself in the opposite corner. But as they began their descent to the fourth level, she couldn't help but feel as though he were staring at her, so she glanced aside at him with narrowed eyes.

He was indeed watching her, a familiar smirk in place. "I'm curious, Weasley," he drawled, "as to what business _you_ might have in Auror Headquarters- seeing as they sacked you, and all."

Hermione harrumphed but didn't turn around, trusting Ginny to handle the prat on her own. "I just came to get Hermione so we could have lunch with Ron," she said coolly, refusing to let her temper get the best of her. Before he could shoot back a response, she continued, "One might wonder what _you_ were doing there- seeing as you're an ex-convict, and all."

Hermione sniggered as the lift stopped at the fourth level and the memos zoomed out. "He was brought in for questioning this morning," she said, still facing straight ahead, "though that was some time ago, Malfoy. What on earth could have kept you for so long?"

"None of your business, Mudblood," Malfoy snapped, his cheeks red with anger. Ginny lifted an eyebrow. Clearly, his morning hadn't gone well at all.

"What, do they just bring you in once every few weeks, Malfoy?" Ginny asked, turning innocently wide eyes on him. "To keep an eye on you? I would imagine that's rather-"

_Clang_. Ginny broke off with a gasp as the lift came to a sharp halt just below the fourth level. With a startled yelp, Malfoy pitched forward into Hermione, just as Ginny unthinkingly reached out and grasped his sleeve to keep from falling. Hermione knocked into the opposite corner with a soft groan, and Malfoy hastily backed away from her, wrenching his arm out of Ginny's grip with a snarl. Before any of them could say anything, the light in the lamp overhead flickered and died, plunging them into complete darkness.

For a moment, none of them spoke, and the lift was silent save for their uneven breathing. Ginny recovered her voice first. "What in the bloody hell is going on?" Snatching her wand from her robe, she reached up and poked it uselessly in the darkness. "I can't- find the lamp," she muttered. Suddenly, her wand connected with something solid, rapping it hard.

"Ow! Weasley, you twit, watch where you're poking that," came Malfoy's angry voice. "Those lamps are run by maintenance, you silly bint. You won't be able to light it. _Lumos_."

His wand flared with light, bringing his pale face into view, his eyebrows angled in an ugly scowl. Ginny returned the glare with interest before lighting her wand the same way and swinging around to face Hermione. The bushy-haired witch had her wand lit too, as she leaned against the lift doors, a faint frown lining her face. "Hermione, are you all right?"

"Shh, yes, I'm perfectly fine." Her frown deepened. "And I'm trying to make out what's happening, if you two could stop bickering for five seconds."

"Well, what do you think's happened, Granger?" Malfoy said nastily. "Obviously, the lift's been shut off for some rea-"

A high-pitched wailing cut through his words, sounding out from outside the lift but blaring through loud enough. Ginny winced at the sudden noise and glanced aside. Malfoy had gone pale in the dim light of their wands. "That's a high-risk alarm. Security breach."

"Meaning...?" Ginny shook her head.

"Meaning someone _unfriendly_ is in the building. Honestly, Weasley," Malfoy snapped, though she thought his voice sounded just a bit shaky, "I know you've been sacked, but you _were_ an Auror for a good few years, yes?"

"It's a new system." Hermione shot Malfoy a glare before turning to Ginny to explain. "Someone's gotten through security, someone who shouldn't be here." Her expression turned slightly uneasy. "And as it's a high-risk alert, I'd venture a guess that it's-"

"Death Eaters." They both glanced at Malfoy, who was beginning to look a little wild around the eyes.

Ginny laughed cruelly, spurred on by her own nerves. "Why so frightened, Malfoy? Don't you think your old pals will be glad to see you?"

"Well, they left me in prison when they broke out the others. What do you think, Weasley?" Malfoy shot her a glare before turning to the lift doors in irritation. "There has to be some way to get out of here."

"Can't we Apparate?" Ginny wondered aloud.

"I doubt it," Hermione and Malfoy said simultaneously. They eyed each other darkly before Malfoy continued, "If it's a large-scale attack- and I suspect it is, if they've gotten into maintenance- they'll be prepared, they'll have planned ahead. They shut down the lifts to trap people, so they'll certainly have set up anti-Apparition wards. But if you'd like to test the theory-"

Malfoy smiled down at Ginny in an imitation of pleasantry, "-be my guest."

"I've no wish to get splinched, thanks," she snapped.

"Well, technically we're safe in here." Hermione turned a speculative gaze on the lift doors. "But Malfoy's..." She swallowed and evaded his gaze. "Well, he's right. They've meant to trap us in here, so we won't be safe for long. They'll try to get in."

"Which means _we_ need to get _out_." Malfoy didn't appear to try and hide the panic edging his tone. "_Now_. Aren't you supposed to be brilliant, Mudblood?"

Hermione paid him no heed as she set to work studying the doors, muttering to herself beneath her breath. "I think I know how to get the lift working, but it's a complicated incantation," she said. "Just give me a minute."

"We're going to have a tough time of it once we get outside," Ginny pointed out. "There could be fighting. We've no way of knowing where the Death Eaters are, and it'll be difficult getting to the Atrium. Floos are probably blocked, and-"

"I have an emergency Portkey in my office." Malfoy folded his arms over his chest and leaned back against the wall, apparently trying to calm himself. "Which is the next floor down, fifth level. So I'm not worried."

"Oh, by all means." Ginny scowled. "Don't try to stay and help fight."

"I won't, thank you," he answered snootily. Before Ginny could reply, the lift suddenly jerked into movement, though moved much slower than usual- at a snail's pace- and the lamp remained unlit.

And it was moving up. Back to the fourth level. Away from Ron, and away from Malfoy's office.

"Why're we going up?" Malfoy snarled. "Damn it, Mudblood, we're going the wrong way!"

"Well, at least we're moving, stop whinging!" Ginny snapped.

Hermione turned to face the two of them with a weary expression, but before she could say a word, the lift came to another sharp stop. Hermione whirled around with wide eyes, prodding at the lift doors with her wand and muttering under her breath, while Ginny and Malfoy simultaneously glanced upwards, eyeing the top of the lift. About two feet of the grille door had reached the opening at the fourth level, just short of reaching Malfoy's head. Some kind of flashing red light flickered in through the opening, providing a wavering measure of light. 

"What happened?" Ginny demanded, turning to Hermione in alarm.

"Erm... hang on, I'm not- sure..."

"Oh, brilliant, Granger!" Malfoy stood on tip-toe, hanging onto the grille bars over his head as he tried to peer out the top of the lift to see onto the fourth floor. "Now we're trapped again, only this time, they can bloody see us!"

"Can they? Are they out there?" Ginny asked.

"I don't see anyone," Malfoy answered. No sooner had he spoken when the faint sounds of battle in the distance reached Ginny's ears, muted shouts and curses drifting through the air over the wail of the alarm.

"_Now_ can you see anyone?"

"No," he snapped. "I don't know where the fighting's coming from- down the opposite end of the floor, I think- but there's no one in sight. Death Eaters or anyone else."

"Are you sure? I mean, isn't it dark out there?" Ginny prodded. "How can you see anything?"

Well, in addition to the alarm light, Weasley, they've already got the backup lights on. They're not too bright, and rather sparse, but I can actually _see_."

"I can't get the _bloody_ lift moving again!" Malfoy and Ginny glanced at Hermione in surprise at her frustrated outburst. She ran frazzled hands through her hair, only serving to make it more bushy and wild. "I don't know what could be stopping it. The only thing I can think of is that they still have someone down in maintenance who detected the spell I used to get it moving." She glanced at them with a pointed expression. "That's why it shut down again, and that's why I can't get it back on track."

"So now they know we're in here and trying to escape?" Malfoy hissed. "Why don't you just call out to them and ask them to kill us?"

"Well, I don't see you doing anything to help!" she said shrilly, clearly growing as panicked as he was.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," Ginny muttered, pushing past the two of them. Pocketing her wand, she reached for the door and gave it a good _yank_ to one side, struggling to pull it open without any magic whatsoever. A moment later, Malfoy joined her, and in a few seconds, they managed to pull it back. As soon as the doors were open, Malfoy reached up to hurl himself up and out of the lift, but Ginny shoved him away, sending him sprawling into the back wall.

"Hermione first," she snapped. "We wouldn't even be able to climb out if it wasn't for her. C'mon, 'Mione, up you go." She beckoned the other witch forward, who seemed to have calmed her nerves a bit and approached the opening at ease. Ginny boosted her up, shooting Malfoy a glare. "Feel free to help," she grunted, as she hoisted Hermione through the opening at the top.

"I'll just wait my bloody _turn_, thanks."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Well, come on, then. You've got to boost me up before you can go."

"And how the hell will I get out?" he demanded. "With no one to boost me?"

"You're tall enough to reach it, Malfoy," she said impatiently. "Now will you help me up, or shall we sit here until the Death Eaters come?"

Cursing under his breath, Malfoy trudged forward. Ginny waited for him to make a footstep with his palms, like she'd done for Hermione, but instead, he bent down and wrapped his arms around her knees, lifting her into the air. She gasped, startled by his sudden move. "Malfoy!"

"Just get out of the bloody lift, weasel!" he growled.

Forcing down a retort, Ginny reached through the opening, squinting against the blinking red lights and the dim glow of the backup lamps. Hermione took a hold of her arms to pull her up, and she wriggled onto the floor on her stomach, nearly kicking Malfoy in the face as she went. _Pity I missed_, she thought with a sigh, and turned back to help him out while Hermione stood guard, glancing around the lift lobby and down the corridor that ran off to their right. 

"Hurry," she whispered urgently. "I can see people heading down this way, and some of them hooded in black robes!"

Malfoy's eyes were dark and fixed on Ginny's face as she leaned down to give him her hand. Leveraging one arm against the edge of the lift opening, he gave himself a quick push off with the other hand before grabbing onto Ginny. He grunted as he pushed against the edge of the opening and hauled himself up, his legs flailing beneath him to kick off the doors below.

"Hurry, hurry!" Hermione moaned from behind.

"I'm- trying," Ginny groused, pulling with all of her body's strength. She distantly became aware of the fighting sounding out louder and closer, shouts and curses filling the air, blaring over the alarm. Once Malfoy had his torso out of the lift, he let go of the wall and took Ginny's other hand. With a mighty _tug_, Ginny pulled him out in one go, so suddenly that they both shot forward into the lobby. Draco shouted a curse as they both went down, entangled in each other's arms and legs.

Stepping all over her and sending a sharp elbow into her side more than once, Malfoy staggered to his feet while Ginny rolled onto her stomach between his legs. Her eyes widened as a masked Death Eater suddenly bound into the lobby, wand raised and leveled at them. "Look out!" she screamed, scrabbling for her wand as she pushed herself up on her hands. But Malfoy had pocketed his wand as well, and seemed to be tearing through his robes to find it, just as the Death Eater aimed his curse at him, shouting, "_Sectum-_"

"_Protego!_" Both Malfoy and Ginny whirled around, shocked, as Hermione blocked the spell meant for Malfoy. Before any of them, even the Death Eater, could take another breath, she pointed her wand at the masked man and Stunned him, sending him to the ground in an unconscious heap.

Malfoy's expression was one of outraged incredulity. "Did you just save my life?" he roared, turning on Hermione and leaving an irritated Ginny on the floor. Scowling, she pushed herself to her feet, wand now in hand.

Hermione ignored him, darting glances down the corridor. "Come on, let's make for the stairs!" To their right stretched an empty corridor, but more Death Eaters were quickly advancing from the left, only about twenty paces back.

"I will not be indebted to you!" Malfoy yelled, following Hermione as she stepped out into the corridor from the lift lobby.

"Stop being so stupid, Malfoy!" Hermione retorted, turning down the right end of the corridor and leaving her back exposed to the advancing Death Eaters.

"Uh... guys-" Ginny began, watching the approaching Death Eaters come closer and closer, brandishing their wands.

"You can pay me back later," Hermione snapped. "Now come-"

"Death Eaters, Death Eaters!" Ginny hollered, losing herself a bit as one masked man pointed his wand at Hermione's unprotected back.

Hermione began to turn, her eyes wide, but it wouldn't be soon enough, Ginny could tell. A jet of red light exploded from the Death Eater's wand as he shouted, "_Stupefy!_"

Leveling her wand, Ginny shouted out a Shield Charm, but it wasn't soon enough. Malfoy, however, didn't even bother with his wand, which he apparently had yet to take from his pocket, in his haste and anger. Instead, he dove forward across the hall, directly in front of Hermione, and took the Stunning Spell in his chest.

"For the love of Merlin!" Ginny whispered, completely shocked by his stupidity. She and Hermione exchanged quick, exasperated glances and then moved as one. While Hermione began firing curses at the approaching Death Eaters, Ginny scrambled into the corridor and took Malfoy by the arms. A large, open reception hall stood directly across the corridor from the lift lobby, and Ginny managed to heave Malfoy into this hall, where she dropped him off to one side, next to a long table.

"Hermione, help me!" she shouted, turning the table onto its side. Still blocking curses with one arm and keeping her eyes on the Death Eaters, Hermione grasped a table leg in the other hand and helped Ginny pull it into the corridor, effectively serving as a barricade between them and the Death Eaters. Once it was stretched across the corridor, Hermione crouched behind it, still shooting curses as she peeked out. Ginny, meanwhile, dragged Malfoy back into the corridor, behind the table with them, and joined Hermione in blocking off curses.

She paused to glance at the unconscious Malfoy and shook her head. "I mean, really," she said, incredulous annoyance tinting her voice, "is being indebted to you so bad? Because he certainly wasn't motivated by heroics."

"Well, I am a filthy Mudblood, after all," Hermione returned dryly. "I'm sure he would've thrown himself in front of the Killing Curse rather than bear the shame of being indebted to me." She tore her gaze from the Death Eaters for a quick second, eyeing the pale man. "You'd best wake him; we won't last for long here."

Ginny nodded, ducking back down behind the table. Kneeling over Malfoy with a grimace, she shook him roughly, pounded on his chest, and delivered a quick slap across his face. "Malfoy. Malfoy!"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Ginny, use your wand," Hermione said.

Pouting, Ginny pointed her wand at the git. "That was so much more fun," she muttered. "_Ennervate_."

- - - - -

Carina stalked down the Ministry corridor, her furious pace hindered by her somewhat _large_ size, at eight months pregnant. She was incredibly exhausted, and hadn't been feeling very well all morning. She would have liked nothing better than to have been at home resting, but unfortunately, she found herself at the Ministry of Magic, looking for Draco bloody Malfoy.

It wasn't that she didn't appreciate the considerable sum of money he'd wired into her account. Carina wasn't stupid; she didn't need the money, exactly, but seeing as Draco Malfoy had gotten her into this mess in the first place, she'd gladly take his monetary support (after all, it wasn't as though he needed it, either). What angered her was the completely public, inconspicuous way he'd done it, leaving a careless trace of records from her account, all leading back to him. She knew he hadn't been a Death Eater for very long, but surely, _surely_ he understood that they had people who had access to Gringott's accounts?

"Bloody stupid man," she muttered, coming up to a turn on her left. "I can't believe-"

She stopped short when she rounded the corner and found herself face to face with Ron Weasley, who yelped in surprise and dropped the pile of paperwork in his hands. "Oh, for Merlin's sake, Ron." She sighed. "And now I feel terrible, because I really can't help you pick all that up."

"Oh, erm- no, it's fine- really, it's fine," Ron assured her, scrabbling over the floor to pick up the scattered paperwork. "But, er-" He straightened, haphazardly shuffling the papers in hand. "What are you doing here?"

Carina blanked, scrambling for an excuse. "Well, I-" She stopped short as a thought occurred to her. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"I... work here?" Ron frowned, puzzled.

"I thought you worked in the Department of Magical Games and Sports," she shot back, folding her arms over her chest.

There was a moment's pause, and then Ron's baffled gaze drifted over to the wall, which was covered in Quidditch posters. Carina followed his gaze, stared, and then let out a sigh. "Oh, bugger it. I'm not on the fifth level, am I?"

"Seventh, actually." Ron smiled in understanding. "What's on the fifth level?"

"I'm sorry," she murmured, avoiding his question. "I've been dotty all morning. I'm really not..." Her voice trailed off in another sigh. "Not feeling well."

"You look a bit peaky," Ron agreed. "Maybe you should sit down, for a moment? My office is just here." He jerked his head to the left, over her shoulder.

"No, don't bother." She waved her hands in dismissal and shook her head. "Really, I'm just a bit tired."

"Are you sure? You really do look pale," Ron said, his brow furrowed in concern. "Just sit and have some water- unless this business on the fifth level can't wait?"

Carina considered. "Well... I suppose it can. I'm just... I just need to speak with someone."

Ron took her by the arm and guided her into his office. "Well, sit yourself down in here-" He helped her into a chair at his desk, "and we can send a memo up to whoever it is you're looking for. Erm-" He frowned. "_Who_, exactly, are you looking for?"

"Afternoon!" Carina glanced up, relieved for the distraction, as Tracey Davis swept into the room. The former Slytherin shared an office with Ron, which was quite convenient, considering she was also a former D.A. member and now part of the Order of the Phoenix. If she was surprised to see Carina, she didn't show it, as she spared the woman a flashy smile before plopping down into her chair. Humming under her breath, she propped her feet up on the desk, crossed her ankles, and blew her mousey brown fringe out of her face.

"You're certainly in a cheerful mood today," Carina observed.

"Course she is." Ron sniggered. "She's just had a good shag during her lunch break."

Tracey threw Ron a bemused glance, though her green-blue eyes were still sparkling with mirth. "I've no idea what you're talking about." She shot Carina an innocent glance. "Honestly, I've no idea what he's talking about."

"How is Pucey these days?" Carina asked with a smirk, taking note that the buttons on Tracey's blouse were unevenly done.

"Bored." Tracey answered, glancing through a sheaf of parchment. "He was glad to go into hiding, you know, but I don't think he realized how limited his activities would be now." Adrian Pucey, a former Slytherin a few years above Carina, had very briefly served as a spy in the ranks of the Death Eaters, shortly after the battle of Hogsmeade six years ago. Now, wanted dead by several Death Eaters, he was forced to spend his days in hiding, under protection of the order.

"And you, Carina?" Tracey eyed Carina's sizeable bulge with a smirk of her own. "How is the pregnant life suiting you?"

"I'm ready for it to be over with," Carina grumbled.

"Oh, but hasn't anyone told you, darling?" Tracey asked with a laugh. "It's never over, not anymore."

"I'm not worried," Carina said coolly, while actually squelching the anxieties that rose every time she was reminded of her soon-to-be-motherhood. "I'm outrageously wealthy and can afford a whole mansion of nannies."

Tracey eyed her slyly. "I don't suppose you'll ever divulge who the father is?"

"Davis," Ron warned, placing a glass of water in front of Carina.

"Only we've taken bets, you see," Tracey explained.

"I'm not surprised," Carina said dryly, trying to keep thoughts of Draco out of her head. Which was ridiculous, really. It wasn't as though anyone was going to try using Occlumency on her. "Anyway, I would forget about it, if I were you. You don't know him."

"It's a Hufflepuff, isn't it?" Tracey asked wickedly.

Ron perched on the edge of his desk, his arms folded over his chest. "Better a Hufflepuff than Draco Malfoy," he growled.

"You know, a small portion of people in on the pool reckon it _is_ Draco," Tracey let out, still eyeing Carina shrewdly.

Carina, however, didn't let her expression change, even though an edge of panic twisted in her gut. "Then a small portion of people in on your bet are fools. If I could give my child the wealth and prestige of the Malfoy family, why wouldn't I?"

"Because then you'd have to put up with Draco Malfoy for the rest of your life." Tracey wrinkled her nose. "Anyway, how can you be sure?"

"Sure of what?" Ron asked, baffled.

Carina understood the question perfectly. "I hardly ever slept with Draco," she lied. "Believe me, I'm quite sure he isn't the father."

"On the note of sleeping with Malfoy-" Ron grimaced, "let's change the subject. Who am I to send this memo to, then, Carina?"

Carina heaved a sigh. The banter with Tracey, though amusing, had only tired her even more. She didn't even want to imagine getting out her chair, and she was beginning to feel quite hot- probably due to Tracey's probing about her pregnancy. "Send it to..." She trailed off, wrestled with an excuse, and then gave in, too exhausted to think up anything suitable. "To Draco," she sighed, shutting her eyes.

"To Malfoy? What have you got to talk to him, for?" Ron demanded.

"I'm rather curious to know that myself," Tracey piped up.

"Well, too bad," Carina snapped, her temper growing very short, "because it's really none of your business, neither of you. Just send him the damn memo and tell him to get his arse down here."

"Well... all right," Ron conceded, still frowning. "I only wondered-"

"Oh, never mind!" With a huff, Carina lumbered to her feet. "If you aren't going to write it, then I'll just-" She broke off suddenly as a strange twinge in her belly caught her off-guard. 

Something telling must have flashed across her face, because Tracey leaned forward, swinging her feet of her desk. "Carina? Are you all right?"

"I'm-" She broke off with a gasp as a more painful twinge shot through her. Biting back a moan, she placed a hand over her stomach. "Merlin's beard," she muttered between gritted teeth.

"Carina? What's wrong?" Ron hurried around his desk and to her side, only to wave his arms around a bit uselessly when he reached her. "What's happening? Is it the baby? What's wrong?"

"Give her some room, Weasley," Tracey snapped, shooing him away with a wave of her fingers. She held Carina by the elbow, trying to look her in the face. "Carina? What's wrong?"

Carina breathed in sharply, trying to organize her scrambled thoughts. "I think I'm-" Her words ended in a pained cry this time as she clutched Tracey's arm, her fingernails digging into the other witch's skin.

"-having contractions," Tracey finished, a worried expression on her face.

Carina nodded as the wave of pain slowly passed.

"What? Here? Now? But I thought you weren't due for another few weeks!" Ron blurted out. Carina threw him a harried glance; he'd gone quite pale. "You must be wrong. Are you sure it isn't... er, I dunno- something else?"

"Oh, for goodness' sake, Ron, I'm eight months pregnant _and_ a trained Healer!" Carina burst out, still trying to relax her muscles after the pain. "I think I know what a bloody contraction is!"

"Er- right. Right. Of course." Ron scrubbed nervous hands over his hair. "I'm sorry. I just..."

"Look, why don't you just sit back down..." Tracey helped Carina over to her chair and slowly seated her in it. "Let's just all calm down, all right? It might be... er, false labor, right?" She shot Carina a expectant glance.

"One can hope," Carina said wryly, shutting her eyes.

"Well, maybe- I mean, shouldn't you go to hospital?" Ron suggested.

"Like she could Floo or Apparate like this, Weasley?" Tracey hissed. "Look. Just stay here, all right, and I'll go get some help. I'll Floo someone-"

Carina bit back another anguished scream and groaned as a spasm of pain wracked her body.

"-someone at St. Mungo's," Tracey finished, pitching her voice over Carina's cry. If Carina hadn't been so distracted, she might've noted that Tracey too, now, sounded a little panicked. "So just stay here, Weasley-"

"Me?" Ron squeaked. "But what am I supposed to-"

"Just stay with her, Weasley, and I'll be back with help in a few minutes!" Tracey snapped.

Carina was vaguely aware of the witch leaving the room, as Ron shuffled over to her chair and hovered uncertainly. "Carina? Erm, what should-"

Carina flung her arm out and snatched up his hand, squeezing it so hard that Ron let out a strangled sound that might've been a stifled yelp. "Just stand there and be still," she grated.

"But- well- all right." Ron fidgeted, but Carina was gratefully surprised when he squeezed her hand in return. "So I'll just-"

He broke off as the light suddenly flickered overhead and went out, and the charmed daylight shining through the window disappeared. The contraction passed just as they found themselves consumed in utter darkness. Involuntarily, Carina squeezed Ron's hand again. "What just happened? Where did the lights go?"

"I don't... I'm not sure. Hang on..." There was rustling noise, and then, "_Lumos_."

Carina glanced up, squinting at Ron's face, lit by his wand. Even though he'd been panicked just a moment before, his eyes were narrowed now as he glanced around the room. "That's strange. These lights are run by maintenance... I can't think why they'd shut them off. Here, hang on just a moment... I've got candles..."

He let go of her hand and stepped away, the light drifting along with him. Soon enough, he had several candles lit throughout the room. He left one on the desk, beside Carina, and said, "I'm just going to step out into the corridor a moment- see what's going on. And figure out where the devil Tracey's gone," he muttered, moving away.

Carina forced out an unsteady breath as he left. She swallowed and tried not to panic, but the incident with the light didn't help calm her nerves at all. She _was_ a trained Healer, and she knew that something wasn't right... those contractions were coming awfully fast. She groaned inwardly, remembering how off and unwell she'd felt this morning. Of course, she hadn't even paid much attention to her own body, not once she'd learned of the money incident with Draco...

Ron tottered back into the office, and Carina could just make out a frown on his face. "I've no idea what's happening." He shook his head. "Everything's pretty quiet and no one seems to-"

A high-pitched screeching suddenly cut through his words, filling Carina's ears until she couldn't hear anything else. Throwing her hands over her head, she shouted, "What's happening?" She squinted through the darkness and caught a glimpse of some kind of flickering light out in the corridor, before Ron shut the door and hurried over to her.

"It's the new security system," he said loudly. "I think it's- wha...?" He glanced down as he reached her chair, frowning at the floor. "Did you spill your drink? Why's the floor wet?"

"Erm..." Carina chewed her lip anxiously. "I think my water broke."

Ron eyed her in alarm. "Is that... bad?"

"It means the baby is coming _noooooooow!_" She drew the last word out in a shriek as another wave of pain rocked her. This time, it was so intense, and her nerves were so completely shot to hell, with the darkness and the screeching alarm, that she couldn't hold back a scream. She grabbed Ron's hand and squeezed it as hard as she possibly could, doubling over in pain.

"What? Now?" Ron didn't even wince as she nearly broke his hand; he was so lost in panic. Well, good. As long as she wasn't the only one. "Are you sure?"

"Ron Weasley, if you ask me that one more time I'm going to-" Her words ended in another scream, just as the office door burst open and Tracey rushed inside, slamming the door behind her.

"Where have you been?" Ron shouted over the alarm. "And what the bloody hell is going on? Why's the alarm gone off?"

"Well, actually-" Tracey hesitated, looking to Carina with a frown. "Is she all right?"

"No, she is bloody not all right!" Ron hollered.

"My water broke," Carina moaned, gritting her teeth through the pain.

"Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no, no, no." Tracey hopped from one foot to the other in panic.

"What? What?"

"Erm... look, Ron, just come over here for a minute-" Tracey began.

"I don't think so," Carina gasped, as the pain began to subside for the moment. "Don't try to play dumb with me. I want to know what's going on too, I'm the one in labor here!"

Tracey swallowed and inched closer. "Well, actually-" She threw Ron a desperate glance, evading Carina's gaze. "Someone's attacked the Ministry."

"What?" Ron's eyes widened.

"_Someone?_" Carina asked.

"Death Eaters," Tracey said in a rush. "A lot of them, by the sound of the alarm- it's a high-risk alert."

Carina couldn't help it; she let out a shrill, disbelieving laugh. "No. No. This is impossible. I'm bloody having this baby, _right now_, and there are-" All at once, the gravity of the situation seemed to sink in, and she caught her breath in fear. N_o one knows about the baby. No one knows about Draco_, she reminded herself. Still, here she was, ready to have a baby, and the very men who would be quite willing to take said baby from her, if they only knew who its father was... "This can't happen. Not now. It can't," she said, her words coming out in a rapid rush of panic.

"Carina. Just breathe." Tracey crouched down to look her in the eye. "Don't worry about the Death Eaters. I will handle them. You just focus on having this baby, and Weasley here will help you."

"I will?" Ron yelped. "Me? Why can't I handle the Death Eaters and you help her have the baby?"

Carina groaned.

"Weasley!" Tracey hissed. "You aren't helping!"

"But I don't know anything about having babies!"

"And you think I do?" For the first time, Carina noticed that Tracey, actually, was looking quite green.

"You're a woman!" Ron spluttered.

"And _you're_ a Gryffindor," Tracey retorted.

"So? Meaning what?"

"Meaning of the two of us here, you're the courageous one," Tracey said grimly. "So I will be the cowardly Slytherin and hold back the Death Eaters, and you, being the brave man that you are, will deliver this baby." And with that, she darted off towards the office door, wand in hand.

Breathing heavily, Carina glanced up at Ron with fearful eyes. The man stared after Tracey for a minute and swallowed, looking a little wild around the eyes. But then he glanced down and seemed to take in Carina's stricken expression. And although he still looked a bit shaken, he squared his shoulders and knelt before her. "All right. What do I do?" 


	7. Chapter Six

**Author Notes:** Sorry, for some reason the url to my lj came out a bit wonky last chapter. Let's try it again: http://littlebit-liz. You can check it out for update notices and cookies. Feel free to add me to stay updated.

**Chapter Six**

Draco woke with a groan and rolled his head around experimentally. Before he'd even fully opened his eyes, he started to pull himself into an upright position, but a striking pain laced through his chest, practically choking him with its intensity. "_Bloody_ hell, they've killed me!"

"Oh, not again. Malfoy, most unfortunately, you haven't been killed, you great prat."

Draco blinked his eyes open. "Weasel? What- happened?"

Weasley scowled down at him, her fiery locks falling forward to tickle his face. "You took a Stunning Spell in the chest, you idiot." She fluttered her eyelashes mockingly. "You saved Hermione's life."

"I did? Oh, thank Merlin," he breathed, shutting his eyes momentarily. "We're even, Granger."

"Now that your _pride_ has been satisfied, do you think we could get moving?" Draco rolled his head around to find the source of Granger's voice. The Mudblood was crouched behind- some sort of table, or something - which seemed to be shielding them. She had her wand pointed over the table's top, shooting curses out into the corridor.

"I'm injured. I can't walk," Draco said immediately.

"Well, you can stay here, then," Weasley snapped, sitting back on her heels. "But honestly, Malfoy, _one_ Stunning Spell in the chest? I'm sure you can walk. You're young."

Muttering under his breath, Draco slowly forced himself into a sitting position, wincing at the twinge in his chest. He hadn't been upright for two seconds when a jet of red light suddenly shot over his head, blowing past his hair. "Merlin's teeth!" he yelped, scrunching down against the table, beside Weasley. "Why didn't you warn me?"

"There are stairs down this end, Hermione," the weasel said, ignoring Draco's complaints. "We know the Death Eaters are down to the left, but maybe this stairwell on the right is clear. Shall we try it?"

"All right," Granger murmured. "But ready yourself; we've got to make it down three floors."

"Three?" Draco echoed, a familiar sneer spreading over his face. "Still going down to meet the weasel king for lunch, are you?"

"I'm going to find Ron, yes," Granger answered calmly, still firing curses down the corridor. Weasley had joined her, but Draco remained stubbornly hidden behind the table and didn't move to help them. "Ginny?"

"Of course, I'm coming with you."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Well, while you daft fools fight your way down three floors, I'll leave you at the next level, thanks. I've got-"

"-an emergency Portkey in your office, we know," Weasley groused. "Are we all settled, then? Because those Death Eaters _really_ outnumber us, and they're getting closer every second."

"Then what the bloody hell are you two still doing?" Draco snapped. Before either of them could fire back a response, he lunged forward and scuttled down the corridor on his hands and knees.

Curses and hexes shot over him and he swore under his breath, ducking his head down. He'd nearly reached the stairs when something- or rather, some_one_- shot past his left side in a flash of red. As the she-weasel raced past him, a curse aimed for her shot by him and connected with the corner at the end of the corridor. Draco let out a shout and rolled to the side as bits of the wall exploded, rocketing over his head. "Weasley, you stupid bint!" he hollered, scrambling to his feet and shoving through the door, into the stairwell. Granger followed close behind him, slamming the door shut and quickly whispering the incantation to some complicated locking charm.

"Are you mad?" Draco yelled, spinning around in the stairwell to face Weasley. "Running like that? You almost got me killed!"

"Well, you were moving at a snail's pace." Weasley gripped her wand tightly as she stared him down, her cheeks red with anger. "If I'd gone on like you were, we _all_ would've been killed!"

"Self-preservation, Weasley?" Draco sneered. "How very Slytherin of you."

"All right, I don't see anyone down this way," Granger said, effectively cutting through their argument as she peered down through the center of the stairwell. "So let's keep-"

_Wham_. Draco stumbled back as a curse hit the railing beside Granger, sending her leaping back in alarm. Still backing away, Draco glanced up towards the third level and spotted several Death Eaters sending hexes their way, shouting and rapidly descending the stairs towards them.

"Move, move!" Granger shouted, nearly tripping down the stairs in her haste. "We need- _arghh!_" she shrieked, as another curse whizzed past her, this time aimed from below.

"I thought you said it was empty down that way!" Draco hissed, stumbling into Weasley as they skidded to a halt.

"Well, I was wrong," Granger snapped. "Malfoy, cover us from behind. Ginny and I will handle these down here, and everyone, _keep moving!_"

They ran. Draco brought up the rear, shooting curses over his shoulders as they went, blocking off the Death Eaters rushing down the stairs towards them. From what he could gather, they were making their way _up_ the stairs, and only a few had turned back to pursue them _down_ the stairs. Of course, that made sense; the majority of them had probably entered from the Atrium and were making their way up through the Ministry. He cursed under his breath as he blocked a Stunning Spell from behind. If they were headed up, and they'd already made it past the fourth level, then that meant the fifth level could be-

"It's overrun!" On the fifth floor landing, Draco came to a stop behind Weasley and Granger, breathing heavily. He dared a glance upwards, but as far as he could tell, no one pursued them any longer.

"What are you talking about, Mudblood?" Draco demanded, pushing past the she-weasel to peer through the window in the stairwell door. Following Granger's gaze, he realized what she meant- the fifth floor was a chaotic mess, packed with Death Eaters and innocents alike, waging battle down the corridor.

Draco swore. "My office is down the other side of the floor."

"You'll never make it," Granger noted.

"_Thank_ you, Granger, I hadn't realized!"

"Even if you stood a chance, it's really not a very smart plan, Malfoy." Draco whirled around to face Weasley, who eyed him coolly. "The Portkey _would_ be very convenient, but you said it yourself- the Death Eaters left you in prison, and I'd imagine a good deal of them want you dead for deserting their ranks six years ago. And you want to go to your _office?_"

"So you want me to come with you?" Draco laughed incredulously. "Run down to your brother's office and- what, battle the evil Death Eaters?"

"Well, no one would expect you to _run to my brother's office_," Weasley pointed out. "But you can have it your own way, Malfoy. Stay here, if you life, and see how well you fare heading back to your office." And with that, she spun on her heel and flew down the stairwell. Granger followed, shooting Draco a knowing glance as she went.

"Snotty Mudblood," he grumbled, wishing he could hex that superior smirk right off her face. Just then, an intelligible body smacked into the stairwell door from the other side, startling him so badly that he leapt back in surprise. "Sweet Merlin," he muttered. Throwing one last glance upwards, he shook his head and sighed before sprinting down the stairs. "Oy, Weasley, wait up!"

He caught up with them on the next landing; his legs were so much longer than theirs. Granger was once again in the lead, and Weasley tossed him a wry glance over her shoulder. "Decided to join the blood traitors after all, Malfoy?"

"Explain something to me, Weasley," Draco panted, as they headed for the middle landing. "You lot could've left me behind when I was Stunned back on the fourth level, and you didn't seem too keen to let me go for my office just now."

"So?" she said indifferently.

"So why do you care?" he asked, rounding the stairs at the landing.

She laughed, the shrill sound laced with derisive scorn. "Believe it or not, Malfoy, _some_ people experience this feeling called guilt. It has to do with having a conscience, and caring what happens to people- even people you despise."

"That's an excuse," Draco shot back. "I don't believe you."

"So?"

"So I don't believe you." Draco caught her sleeve as they clattered onto the last landing before the sixth level, wrenching her to a halt and spinning her around so fast that she caught her breath sharply. She tugged at his grip, but he held her fast, his eyes narrowed and unblinking. "You're holding something back, weasel."

She inhaled deeply and clenched her teeth, as though fighting back an answer. Her eyes were dark with anger, her lips pursed, and her hair tousled from their flight. She looked a furious mess. "In case you hadn't noticed, Death Eater attacks have become more frequent through the years, ever since You-Know-Who disappeared."

"And?" Draco lifted an eyebrow.

"And you should know better than anyone- or maybe, just as well as _I_ do- that the attacks can claim any number of lives, at any time," she snapped.

Draco blinked, his fingers tightening around her arm. His mind flew past thoughts of his mother, leaving them behind for fear of dwelling in that painful place for too long. "What are you talking about, Weasley?" he growled. Surely she didn't mean his mother; what did she know about it, anyway? She was thinking of Zabini, that was all. Not his mother.

"As terrible as it sounds, something could easily happen to Carina." And Draco was so shocked at the mention of Carina that he let go of Weasley abruptly, but she remained rooted to the spot. "And if something _did_ happen to her, you would be all that your child has lef-"

"You told me you didn't remember anything about that night!" Draco seized her by both arms this time, drawing a startled gasp from her. He nearly yanked her off the ground, he pulled her so close to him.

"What are you on about?"

"That night, when you were ill at my house! You told me, the week after; you said you didn't remember anything!" The words tumbled out of Draco's mouth so fast that he was breathless with fury. "Here, at the Ministry, in the Atrium, I ran into you and you said you didn't remember anything!"

He stopped short, pausing to catch his breath. For a moment, there was silence between them, as Weasley stared him down and he waited for her answer. Finally, she drew a deep breath.

"Well," she bit back, "I remember _that_."

For some reason, her words startled him into letting go of her, and he stepped back, searching her face for some hint. Some hint that there was more to what she said, some hint that she remembered the very thing running through his mind- her delusions over Zabini, and that kiss- that insane, fevered, lost-in-the-moment kiss.

"Anyway," she went on, tossing her hair over her shoulder and breaking the gaze between them, "it was pretty decent of you to give up the baby to keep it safe, but if-"

"Wh-what?" Draco spluttered, feeling as though he'd been knocked over the head. "It was pretty _what?_"

She frowned. "Pretty... decent." The expression on her face plainly said she was baffled by his reaction. "I mean, considering that-"

"The sixth floor looks mostly empty from here." Draco nearly jumped out of his skin as Granger spoke up from the landing below where she peered through the window and into the corridor. "I think they probably attacked all the even-numbered floors from the opposite side, and the others from this side." She glanced up and seemed to realize that Draco and Weasley still stood on the landing above her. "Are you two coming or not?" she asked mildly, before taking off down the stairs again.

Weasley coughed uncertainly, cast him a wary glance, and started after the Mudblood. Draco followed at a slower pace, still dumbstruck. Decent. _Decent_. He mouthed the word as he tottered down the stairs, memorizing its unfamiliar shape. It wasn't that _he'd_ never used the word before, when mocking the nobility and heroics of idiotic Gryffindors, but to hear it applied to himself... that was wholly foreign.

He glanced through the window on the door as he passed the sixth level landing, noting that it did seem pretty empty and hazard-free. _Sixth level_, he mused, _the Department of Magical Transport_. He rounded the stairs and started for the next landing, his eyes absently fixed on-

"Wait a minute." He stopped suddenly in the middle of the stairs, his words bringing Weasley to a halt on the landing below. Granger was some ways ahead, and didn't even seem to have heard him. "The sixth level."

"Malfoy, what are you on about?" Weasley demanded. "Let's go, we've wasted enough time!"

But Draco glanced over his shoulder, eyeing the door to the sixth floor. "The sixth level," he repeated, turning his eyes on Weasley. "It's the Department of Magical Transport. They have the Portkey Office, they'll have Portkeys we can activate, and probably emergency ones as well-"

"Malfoy." Weasley sighed, coming back up the steps towards him. "If you want to try and Portkey out, then fine. I think it's a bit risky, but you can do what you want." She locked eyes with him meaningfully, standing two steps below him. "Just... remember what I said. About the baby." She turned to go.

"Wait." Draco's hand shot out and locked around Weasley's wrist, spinning her around so quickly she almost fell. "Look, if what Granger says is true, and the Death Eaters are attacking the odd-numbered floors from this side, then level seven will be swarming with Death Eaters. You'll never make it."

Weasley's eyes narrowed. "Well, I have to try."

"Why?" Draco demanded. "Weasley, you're just going to get yourself killed! Look, just forget about all that, just come back up here with me and we can Portkey out!"

"You want me to _run away_ and go with you?" She shook her head incredulously. "Malfoy, I can't! I won't! Ron could be hurt, and so could dozens of other people. I can't just run out of here and leave-"

"It's what you're telling me, isn't it?" Draco cut in angrily. "To get out the easiest way, to do what I have to, to survive?"

"But not for you, it's not because of you!" she shouted, coming up a step. "You have a _baby_ to think of, you can't just-"

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

Draco let out a shout and stumbled as the Killing Curse, shot from somewhere above them, missed Weasley by inches and hit the step below her with a burst of blinding green light. The stone stairs exploded, sending rubble and dust into the air, shaking the entire stairwell. Weasley screamed as the steps just below her caved in and tumbled down into the abyss below, creating a wide gap just behind her.

Draco was still clutching onto her wrist, but his grip slipped by centimeters as the explosion rocked the building, and he soon found himself hanging onto her hand desperately as she precariously balanced on the edge of the gap. For a moment, as she held onto him, the only thing keeping her from tumbling down into the abyss, she locked eyes with him- huge, terrified, pleading eyes. "Malfoy-"

_Crash_. Draco yelled as another Killing Curse hit the stairs beside him and the shattering explosion shook the stairwell. He tried desperately to hang on to Weasley's hand, but then her fingers slipped from his as he was thrown back from the force of the blast, and the last thing he heard was her scream.

- - - - -

Ron paused to lean back on his heels for a second, wiping his brow with a blood-stained sleeve. "All right, come on, Carina, you're almost there! Come on, push!"

"I- can't..." Carina mumbled breathlessly, her head rolling on to her shoulder loosely.

"Yes, you can, come on, you're almost done! You can do it!" Ron shouted, barely pausing to take a breath before calling over his shoulder, "Davis, what's going on out there?"

A muffled curse answered him before she hollered in reply, "The corridor seems to be emptying out a bit... I think they're taking off!" Another curse sounded out, loud and clear, before she added, "But forget about the damn Death Eaters and concentrate on having that baby!"

Ron swore under his breath and swallowed, having not really taken his attention from Carina at all. He couldn't, really. Ever since this entire ordeal had begun, he hadn't stopped to think much; he'd simply listened to Carina's instructions and acted without hesitation.

But Carina wasn't giving him orders anymore; he didn't think she could. She'd gone deathly pale, her eyelids fluttered dangerously, as though she were fighting to remain conscious. For the first time, Ron paused to take stock of his surroundings. Davis, barricaded in at the door, fought off any Death Eaters who came too close to the office. The sirens had gone off long ago, a blessing, as far as Ron was concerned. The lights remained out, leaving only the candles and the light Ron had managed to conjure up beside him to keep the room lit. He and Carina were situated on the floor, off to the right side of the room, hidden as well as they could be, behind Davis's desk. Situated in a pool of blood.

Ron swallowed again, forcing his eyes from the scarlet floor and back to Carina. He certainly was no expert at birthing babies, but this didn't seem right.

He didn't think there was supposed to be so much blood.

But Carina was long past the point of being able to instruct him in such matters, so he did what he could, and focused on the baby. "All right, come on, Carina, another push! You can do it, you're almost there!"

In the midst of Carina's hoarse cry, he barely registered the sudden silence that fell over the corridor outside. "Yeah, good, all right! I can see the head, Carina, I can see the head! I think..."

"Everything's gone quiet... I think they've all gone!" Tracey called in a whisper that traveled over the desk. "Hang on, I'm going out to scout the corridor!"

"Don't leave!" Ron hissed, throwing a glance over his shoulder. "Davis!"

But he didn't have time to stop her, as another labored moan from Carina drew his attention back around to the baby that was about to be born.

- - - - -

Ginny woke with a groan. The pain hit her immediately, the first indication that she was still alive. She shifted slightly and gritted her teeth as something jagged dug into her back, awakening a whole new kind of ache in her muscles. Warily, she blinked her eyes open.

Everything was dark, almost pitch black, were it not for the dim, flickering light overhead. She was lying amidst a pile of rocky rubble and stony wreckage- that explained the pain in her back. Biting back an agonized cry, she sat up slowly, trying to ignore the fire in her ribs and the hammering in her temples.

The staircase. Of course; the Death Eaters' curses had hit the stairs, causing them to cave in to the landing below. She'd lost a hold of Malfoy; she'd fallen.

Everything was quiet. Was the attack over? Had the Death Eaters gone? But surely, then, someone would be around, seeing to survivors, clearing up the mess. For a terrifying moment, Ginny imagined that everyone was dead, but she forced that thought away, taking a deep breath.

Bad idea. She grimaced as another shot of pain lanced through her sides as she drew the unsteady breath. She placed a hand down beside her and winced; her wrist was throbbing and weirdly twisted- broken, probably.

Still, it was a miracle that she was alive. She glanced up to the chasm above her, where the stairs had broken and caved in. Whatever had happened to Malfoy? she wondered. And Hermione? And Ron, and everyone- she had to find out. She needed to get out of the stairwell.

But as she struggled to lift herself into a standing position, deep voices above her caught her ear, voices steadily rising as they approached, and she froze. Her anxiety pushing past her pain, she scrabbled over the wreckage towards the wall behind her, ducking down to hide behind the rubble. When she dared to peek her head over her stony barricade, she glimpsed two dark-robed men conversing on the landing above her, just below the broken staircase she'd fallen from. Ginny held her breath and strained to hear their words, but she could only catch a few snatches here and there.

"...got the Aurors trapped up on the second level..."

"...seventh level down here's practically destroyed..."

Seventh level destroyed. Ginny swallowed and threw a glance down the stairs to her right. _Ron_. Had he gotten out? Was he all right? And Hermione; she'd gotten some ways ahead of her and Malfoy as they'd dashed down the stairs. Surely she'd reached the seventh level? But was she in time to help Ron?

Ginny had to find them. Keeping a wary eye on the two Death Eaters, she rose shakily to her feet but kept crouched low to the ground. Nevertheless, she was forced to pause for a moment as she tried to calm the dizzying sensation in her head, unsettling her vision. Her lungs felt as though they'd been smashed; it hurt simply to _breathe_. She took a staggering step forward, but her foot caught on a piece of rubble behind her, sending her sprawling towards the last staircase with a clatter.

"Oy, there's someone down there! _Stupefy!_"

Ginny pushed herself to her feet, breathing in shallowly as she fought against the pain. She threw herself forward, down the last few stairs, and yanked open the door leading onto the seventh level. She paused before running into the corridor, turning to throw a curse over her shoulder at the pursuing Death Eaters. "_Impedimenta!_"

The Death Eaters went flying back behind her, tumbling over themselves into the wreckage she'd left behind. Without another glance to spare them, she turned and ran down the corridor. Or at least, she ran as best she could, dragging her body as she went, her injured arm thrown across her burning ribcage. As soon as she reached a turning point in the corridor, she lurched around the corner and ducked behind an upturned table. Swallowing back her heavy breaths, she kept still and listened as the Death Eaters finally caught up and ran past her, swearing under their breath.

Ginny waited several long seconds before daring to peek her head over the table. Finding no one in sight, she staggered to her feet and began inching her way down the corridor towards Ron's office. Most of the backup lights were flickering overhead, so she dared to light her wand with a whispered, "_Lumos_."

She stopped several times along the way to lean against the wall for support, struggling to breathe and keep moving, in spite of the throbbing pain in her side and her wrist, the dull ache in her head.

When she reached Ron's office, she found the door hanging off its hinges, obstructing her way inside. Pushing past the door took some effort, and she doubled over once she was inside, grabbing at the edge of a desk on her right. _Merlin_, but she was in so much _pain_. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think-

But then a strange, cloying odor reached her nostrils, and her eyes flew open, pausing to take in the sight around her for the first time. The office was dark, save for a few lit candles scattered throughout the room. At first glance, the room seemed to be empty, but as she staggered forward, something dark caught her eye on the floor. Bending closer, she realized what it was with dread.

Blood, staining the carpet, leaving a trail around Tracey Davis's desk to the right side of the room. Ginny caught her breath sharply, feeling her insides go cold. Hesitantly, she took another step forward, coming around the desk, and suppressed the urge to close her eyes, for fear of what she might find. If something had happened to Ron-

But the body she found around the desk wasn't Ron at all. Ginny came to a horrified halt as her eyes landed on Carina Moon, still and pale, lying in a pool of her own blood. She didn't see much else before she spun around, a hand flying to her mouth to stifle the sickened gasp tearing from her lips. Staggering back around the desk, Ginny squeezed her eyes shut, as though to block out the image in her mind, but the sight of Carina, stained crimson and dead, seemed branded in her thoughts forever.

She couldn't even think about how Carina had ended up that way as she lurched into the opposite corner of the office, back behind Ron's desk, and promptly leaned over to retch violently. Once her stomach was emptied, she lifted her head to wipe her mouth, turning her gaze to her left.

She frowned and went still as her eyes landed on something barely visible beneath Ron's desk, in the space where his chair usually went. Some small bundle, dark and swathed in shadows cast by the wavering candlelight. Crouching down on her hands and knees, Ginny shuffled forward beneath the desk, finding the bundle to be-

A baby.

Ginny felt as though her heart had stopped. A tiny, pink, wrinkly baby, wrapped in some black cloth of some kind. She caught her breath sharply, as she had when she'd seen Carina, but an entirely new feeling replaced the sickening disgust from before. Incredulity, confusion, but also a righteous sort of anger welled up inside of her. What was a baby doing here, a poor, helpless little baby? How on earth could-

She drew back suddenly as the realization slammed into her with a definite certainty. Slowly, she rose on her knees and peered over the desk, eyeing the trail of blood leading around the opposite side of the room. She couldn't see Carina at this angle, not with Tracey Davis's desk blocking the way, but the image was still fixed in her mind... and Ginny knew.

This was Carina's baby.

This was _Draco Malfoy's_ baby.

And with that realization- all of a sudden- she was moving, springing into frantic action. "Oh, please be all right, please, please be all right," Ginny whispered as she bent back beneath the desk and carefully reached to lift the newborn into her arms. A stinging pain shot through her wrist, reminding her of its broken fragility, but she ignored the pain as she sank back onto her heels, with the tiny baby boy- yes, a boy- resting against her chest.

Ginny frowned as she took in the strange way that his tiny face was screwed up, his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth wide open. She would've thought he was crying, if it weren't for the fact that he wasn't making any noise at all. For a second, Ginny panicked, thinking he was in pain of some kind, before she realized- he _was_ crying. He'd been Silenced.

Tentatively, Ginny leveled her wand at the baby and murmured, "_Finite Incantatem_."

A bawling cry tore through the air and Ginny winced, glancing around anxiously. "Oh, shh, shh, please get quiet," she muttered. "Oh- I'm really sorry about this. _Silencio_."

And the baby boy fell quiet once again, his face still strangely twisted as he cried silently. Ginny breathed a sigh of relief and took a moment to try and regain her composure, but a few seconds later, voices sounded out from down the corridor, jerking her from her momentary respite. Suddenly, she had no time to think, no time to process anything, as the voices rapidly grew louder, approaching the office. With no time to run, Ginny ducked down behind Ron's desk, situating herself into the place where the baby had been as best she could. She'd only just gone still, trying to calm the writhing baby in her arms, when heavy footsteps entered the room.

"Who's there?"

Ginny held her breath, clutching the baby to her chest. That slightly muffled, yet cold and commanding voice sounded vaguely familiar, but she couldn't quite place it. She waited, listening for another set of footsteps, but she heard only that one, even though she'd been sure she'd heard multiple voices out in the corridor.

She had no time to dwell on this anomaly when the footsteps inched closer to her hiding spot. Beneath the thin space between the bottom of the desk and the floor, a pair of black boots came into sight. Ginny swallowed. If it was only this one... she could handle this one-

Without giving herself any more time to hesitate, she stuck her wand out from beneath the desk and shouted, "_Stupefy!_"

A _thud!_ sounded out as her victim fell to the floor, followed by a shout of alarm. That shout alerted Ginny to another presence, and for a split second, she panicked, realizing she'd been right; there _had_ been another Death Eater. But before she could react and defend herself, before she could even think about running or hiding, a shouted curse and a jet of green light exploded at the base of the desk, splintering one of its legs and missing Ginny and the baby by inches. With a terrified shriek, Ginny leapt to her feet, dropping her wand as she jumped clear of the desk and out in the open.

The scream caught in her throat and she froze. A tall, imposing Death Eater stood before her across the room, masked, clothed in black, wand raised and leveled straight at her. For a moment, they only stared at one another, and as Ginny began to wonder why he hadn't killed her yet, she became very aware of the baby in her arms. Her thoughts flew back to the reason Malfoy had lied about the baby- to keep it safe, to keep any of the Death Eaters from using it against him. Still, he _had_ lied, he'd kept it a secret, and there was absolutely no way this Death Eater could even suspect-

"Well, well, well. If it isn't little Ginny Weasley."

Ginny swallowed, that cold voice nagging at the back of her mind. _Where have I heard that voice before?_ Before she could dwell on it any longer, the Death Eater demanded,

"Give me the baby, Miss Weasley."

Ginny's eyes widened at his words. Involuntarily, her arms tightened around the infant boy and she almost took a hesitant step back. "No."

"Don't be silly, you stupid girl," he said quietly, his tone dangerously civil. "I'm not going to hurt him. Give. Me. The baby."

"No," Ginny repeated, pitching her refusal louder this time. "You can't have him. He's... mine," she ended  
lamely.

The Death Eater laughed quietly. "Yours, girl? Hardly that. He's more mine than yours."

Ginny's brow furrowed in confusion at these words, but before she could question them, the Death Eater reached up to remove his mask. At the same time, Ginny's thoughts suddenly clicked into place, and she realized who that drawling voice belonged to.

"No..." she whispered, inching back. "No, it can't be."

But it was.

Lucius Malfoy.


	8. Chapter Seven

**Author's Notes: **This is one of my favorite chapters, so I hope you like it too. A note on Lucius Malfoy- after this chapter, it may seem like I'm characterizing him as the typical DE dad who doesn't care about Malfoy and is crazy about serving the Dark Lord. I really don't see Lucius that way at all; that's just how Ginny sees him currently. I have big plans for daddy Malfoy though, in the long run of this fic and its sequel, and there will be more depth to him.

This chapter is quite long, and most of it's just talk, but it's D/G talk, so hopefully you'll like it.

**Chapter Seven**

"Give him to me, girl."

Ginny stared at him, a black dread swelling in her chest. Her scrambled thoughts were jumbled in confusion. How did he know? How could he know that the baby she held was his grandson? Carina and Draco had gone to such lengths to cover it up; surely Lucius couldn't know for certain...? Perhaps he didn't, perhaps he was only guessing-

"Give him here _now_, girl." Lucius took a step forward, his voice no longer quietly civil.

Almost absently, Ginny took a step back. But what if he did know, for certain? What if he had some kind of proof? Ginny glanced down at the baby with dubious eyes; certainly, with one good look at the boy, Lucius would have all the proof he needed. The baby had stopped crying now, and he gazed back at Ginny with murky grey eyes, eyes just like Draco's. Just like Lucius.

Lucius stepped forward again, and his threatening presence alerted Ginny to the pressing danger, here and now. She hastened back, her eyes widening at his proximity. "Now, see here, girl, I'm not going to hurt him," Lucius growled. "Just hand him over. He doesn't belong to you-"

"Not you either," Ginny shot back, coming behind the desk. _Stall him_, she thought to herself, struggling to retain her calm rationale, _you've got to stall him_.

"He's a Malfoy," Lucius said, his eyes glittering dangerously.

"He's a _baby_," Ginny corrected, her eyes flashing indignantly. "He's an innocent baby, and he belongs with his parents!"

"His mother, in case you hadn't noticed, is dead," Lucius said with an icy glare.

"Then he belongs with Draco," Ginny snapped.

Lucius shook his head, seeming to grow frustrated. "He's my grandson."

"You want to use him!" Ginny laughed scornfully. "Don't pretend you give a damn about him, because if you actually _cared_ what happened to him, you wouldn't be trying to take him from your own _son_ so you can hand him over to your Death Eater pals!"

"I see." Lucius regarded her calmly, a knowing gleam in his eye. "And you think Draco a much worthier candidate to care for the boy?"

Ginny stepped away from him, backing into the bookshelf at the wall behind her. She froze as she stumbled into the solid surface, her mind searching for some way to escape.

Lucius must have taken her silence for doubt, because he laughed quietly and said, "I thought not. You wouldn't trust my son with an... _innocent child_ anymore than you would me."

"You're wrong there," Ginny replied, trying to find some way to reach back behind her without drawing his attention to her movements. "I would..." She swallowed, as though the admission were painful, "...trust him."

"Would you indeed?" Lucius seemed amused as he advanced, slowly coming closer and closer. "I can't imagine why. He serves the Dark Lord-"

"He does not!" Ginny said sharply, momentarily distracted from her task as a hot flash of anger blazed through her. She was slightly startled by her own vehemence in protesting Draco Malfoy's innocence, but she'd reacted strongly without thinking.

"He took the mark," Lucius hissed.

"He was _forced_ into You-Know-Who's service because of _your_ mistakes!" Ginny bit out, spouting the same argument Harry had once used to convince herself of Malfoy's innocence. She hadn't listened at the time; she'd never given much credence to the idea of Malfoy's innocence. "That must just really _rankle_ you, doesn't it?"

"You-" 

"And then, he couldn't do it," Ginny went on mercilessly, noting that Lucius was becoming distracted in his fury. "He couldn't murder someone in cold blood, so he ran. And he did his time in prison-"

"You're a fool if you think that changed him," Lucius said, two red spots of anger marring his pale cheeks.

"-and, lest we forget the most important factor of all," Ginny went on, her hand creeping up towards the shelf behind her, "he _lied_ to keep his baby safe. He would've given up his son if it meant keeping him from _you_."

"Draco's got his priorities a bit mixed up," Lucius snapped. "I'll give you that, but he-"

"Oh, and _then_," Ginny cut in, "and _then_, do you know what he did? I almost forgot the best part!" She bit back a startled gasp as her hand knocked into something sharp on the shelf. "_Then_ he ran to _us_ for help! Can you imagine that? _Draco_, turning to a bunch of blood traitors and Mudbloods for help?"

"That's a lie," Lucius said evenly, drawing closer, faster, spurred on by his anger.

"Nope," Ginny quipped, "not a lie." Her hand roamed over the sharp object and she guessed it to be a knife of some kind, though what Ron would be doing with a- no! A letter opener, that's what it was. Slowly, she closed her fingers around the handle.

"All you've proved is that Draco is still out to save his own skin." Lucius sneered. "But if it came down to a choice between him and that child? Don't think for a moment he wouldn't choose himself over his own son."

"Really?" Ginny said coolly. "Why? Because that's what you would do?"

With an irate snarl, Lucius lunged forward, arms outstretched to snatch the baby away from her. But Ginny was ready. Shying away to one side to keep the baby from his grasp, she swung her opposite arm around and swiped him across the chest with the letter opener. Lucius yelled in pain as she drew a thin line of blood through his robes. The wound was by no means fatal, but she'd startled him enough that he'd jumped back in alarm.

As soon as he'd backed away, Ginny didn't hesitate. Pausing only to knee him in the groin and send him to the floor with a groan, she then turned and ran, dashing out of the office and down the corridor to her right. Somehow, with Malfoy's infant son in her arms, she was able to push past the pain throbbing in her wrist, the fire lancing through her side. She limped down the corridor and into the stairwell, finding it thankfully empty. But she didn't pause as the door swung shut behind her; she hurtled down the stairs, rounded the landings, until she came to the sixth level. Drawing in a gasp for air, she paused long enough to throw a glance through the window. With no Death Eaters in sight, she yanked the door open and staggered onto the sixth level. She'd had enough of chaos in seemingly empty stairwells.

She was sure Lucius must have pursued her, but she hadn't heard any sign of him when she'd paused in the stairwell, so she dared to slow to a cautious walk as she started down the corridor. She wasn't entirely sure where she was going- someplace she could get away, or someplace she could safely hide until help came.

As she trudged down the corridor, she struggled to get her scrambled thoughts in order. She dwelled very briefly on the image of Carina before fleeing from that line of thought. Still, it was curious that Carina had been at the Ministry at all; what on earth could she have been doing there? And with Ron, of all people?

And Ron. Ginny shut her eyes. Where was Ron? What happened to him? There hadn't been any sign of him in his office, but... _someone_ must have helped Carina deliver the baby. Someone had cut the baby's cord, cleaned him off, and hidden him beneath the desk. Someone had wrapped him in...

Ginny's eyes drifted down towards the baby, and she gently fingered the black material swathing the infant. It was a robe, she realized now, someone's robe. And she'd bet anything it was Ron's robe.

Ginny blew out a silent breath and tried to ignore her fears for Ron. Instead, she focused on the baby in her arms, taking in every detail of the infant. She hadn't seen many newborns, but she thought he seemed quite small- had he been born early, she wondered? Casting her mind back, she remembered that Carina had been only three months pregnant when Ginny had discovered that Malfoy was the father- so that would put her at only eight months now. "You couldn't have waited?" Ginny muttered, looking the baby in the eye.

His eyes were grey, like Malfoy's- like Carina's too, she realized- though still clouded in that newborn sort of way, giving them a more bluish cast. A few stray hairs covered his head, blondish, but a bit darker than Malfoy's, she thought. Overall, he was a cute baby. Generally, Ginny had noticed that babies tended to be either extremely cute or excessively ugly. This one was certainly on the cuter side.

She glanced up, warily eyeing her surroundings, but her thoughts remained on the baby. Idly, she wondered if Carina had even given him a name, or chosen a name for him before he was born. Ginny hadn't thought of having children of her own in quite some time, but when she was in school and had made up elaborate dreams of marrying Harry Potter, she'd always imagined that she would name one of her sons William, after Bill. "I like William," she murmured. "I wonder if your mum was going to name you after any family. Guess we'll never know, eh?" She doubted Carina had had any such conversations with Malfoy.

She glanced up and stifled an alarmed gasp as she spotted two Death Eaters at the far end of the corridor. They were heading in the opposite direction, their backs to her, and so didn't seem to have noticed her at all. Frantic to keep out of sight, lest one of them glance over his shoulder, she limped forward a few steps, coming to a small reception hall across from the lift lobby- much like the one they'd found on the fourth level. She hurried towards a large, cushy armchair which had been overturned, marking it as her hiding space. But as she rounded the chair, she tripped over something solid and just caught herself from sprawling forward across the floor, baby and all. Once she'd regained her footing, she whirled around to see what she'd stumbled over-

-and found herself staring at Draco Malfoy.

He was slumped at the base of the armchair, unconscious, or maybe even dead, for all she knew. No, no, he was breathing, she realized, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest, though a thin line of blood trickled down his forehead from a gash somewhere amidst his matted hair.

For a moment, Ginny only gaped, completely stunned that somehow she'd come across him, of all people, when he could have been anywhere in the building. But, she reminded herself, he'd been keen to get to the sixth level and find a Portkey, so it made sense that he was here, more than anyplace else.

She suddenly remembered that she held his baby in her arms, and she crouched down in front of him, eyeing him askance. Goading Lucius Malfoy by telling him that she trusted his son with an innocent child was one thing; putting the theory into practice was an entirely different matter. The baby certainly wasn't hers to give to whom she willed, and with Carina dead, he didn't belong with anyone else besides Malfoy. Still, she hesitated. This was _Malfoy_, after all, an ex-Death Eater, a Slytherin, someone she despised for his cowardice, his disregard for everyone else around him.

And yet...

And yet, Ginny realized with a jolt, she hadn't just been spouting nonsense at Lucius. Although she was loathe to admit it, deep down, with her gut instinct, she did trust Malfoy with this baby. He'd been adamantly prepared to give the boy up to keep him safe, and Ginny believed in that. She trusted in that.

And so, clutching the baby tightly to her chest in one arm, she reached forward and laid trembling fingers on his shoulder. Gently, she shook him. "Malfoy. Malfoy!" she whispered.

He didn't wake or even stir. Ginny shook him more insistently, taking a firmer grip of his shoulder. "Malfoy, please wake up. Malfoy!"

He stirred slightly. "Come on, Malfoy, that's it. Wake up," she urged, but his eyes seemed determined to stay shut. Driven by reckless irritation, Ginny drew back her hand and slapped him across the face. "Draco!"

Malfoy uttered a low moan and stirred again, his eyes fluttering open. A tortured expression flashed across his face before he focused on Ginny blearily. "Weasley..." he mumbled.

"Thank Merlin." Ginny sighed in relief and sat back on her heels. "I thought you'd never wake up. Are you injured?"

"Weasley..." Malfoy groaned, his head rolling to one side. "What... happened?"

Ginny shrugged. "I've no idea. We're on the sixth level, so I suppose you were going for the Portkey Off-"

"Weasley." Malfoy cut through her words with a low growl. He winced, his eyes falling shut. "I meant what happened to _you_."

"Oh. Erm... well, I fell." Ginny hesitated, all too aware of the baby boy in her arms. Malfoy didn't seem to have noticed him at all. "I was knocked out, but when I woke up everything was quiet and mostly empty, so I went to Ron's office and I..."

She trailed off as his gaze shifted around and slowly landed on the baby in her arms. A startled flinch shuddered through him as his eyes suddenly lost their groggy cast and locked on the infant with rapt attention. "Who is _that?_"

Ginny opened her mouth to answer him, but the words stuck in her throat. At her silent response, his eyes flickered up to meet hers in confusion. Then a familiar sneer spread across his face and he returned his gaze to the baby. "What's the matter, weasel, you look like... you've..."

But then his words dissolved into silence, and the scorn in his expression faded and died. With his gaze fixed on the baby, his eyebrow hitched as though he'd noticed something odd. Ginny watched with bated breath as an incredulous fear stole through his eyes, lit with a sort of fierce compassion that seemed both natural and out of place at the same time. Almost inaudibly, he drew in a slow breath, and when he spoke, his voice was hushed and shaken. "Weasley..."

Ginny couldn't answer, captivated by the slow transformation coming over him. For a moment, there wasn't a sound to be heard, not even a single breath. Then Malfoy tore his gaze from the boy and stared at Ginny, who was taken aback by the desperation on his face. "Weasley-"

"So I went to Ron's office," Ginny said hoarsely, floundering as she picked up where she'd left off. "And it was empty except for... except for Carina."

"Carina?" Malfoy seemed to try and summon a familiar glare, but something was lacking in its hostility. His eyes flickered to the baby and back, as though too afraid to dwell on him for very long. "What are you talking about, Carina shouldn't have been here..."

"And then-" Ginny hesitated. "Then I found him." She shifted, indicating the baby in her arms. "Someone hid him under Ron's desk... and..."

The open concern in Malfoy's eyes was so raw and helpless that she could hardly bear to look at him, as he dropped his gaze to the baby. "And?"

"Malfoy..." Ginny clenched her jaw, unsettled by the pity stirring in her gut. "I'm... really sorry."

His eyes snapped back to hers in frantic uncertainty. He shook his head. "Sorry, sorry about what?" he snapped, but his words were rough and broken.

Ginny swallowed. "About Carina."

For a moment, he only stared at her, a thousand different emotions, each one as foreign as the last, battling across his face. Then his eyes fell shut and he seemed to slump in resignation. "Weasley..." He seemed to force the words past trembling lips, "...is that my child?"

Ginny let out a long breath. "It's a boy."

The air seemed to settle, loosing the tension and panic which had been so rife between them just a moment before. Malfoy blinked painfully and shifted, his eyes darting between Ginny and his son, before he swallowed and nodded, holding out his arms for the boy. She shuffled forward on her knees and carefully transferred the baby to him.

The mere exchange of hands was almost too much for Ginny to take, held together by an intimacy that was near unbearable. Fingers brushing fingers, a hand lingering on his wrist, a hint of a touch burning her skin. Questioning whispers and reassuring murmurs, blending together in a muted hum of voices. With a final, "...watch his head," Ginny leaned back, hastily putting some distance between them again.

She shivered, tearing her eyes away from father and son. The sensations stirring in her were foreign and frightening- an ache, subtly tugging at her heartstrings, a knot tightening in her gut, leaving her shaky and cold. She didn't understand why a baby was having this kind of an effect on her, a baby and his distressed father. Malfoy's haughty demeanor had completely dispersed into a vulnerability that appealed far too strongly to Ginny's long-buried sympathies, and she hated how easily he'd broken through the walls of hatred she'd spent a lifetime building against him.

"What happened to Carina?"

Ginny's head shot up, startled by a query she wasn't prepared to answer. "She... died."

"I _know_." A muscle tightened in Malfoy's jaw as he threw her a reproachful glance, barely taking his eyes from his son. "But how?"

"I don't..." Ginny shook her head, briefly closing her eyes, trying to ward off the conjured image in her mind, the last she'd seen of Carina. "She didn't- she wasn't injured, that I... could tell." Dizzying nausea swam through her senses; the image becoming so clear that she could practically smell that cloying scent all over again. "I think- it just-" She swallowed, bile burning in her throat. Malfoy eyed her warily as she stumbled away from him, babbling, "There was just... a lot- a lot of... blood-"

Those were the last words she got out before she spun away from him to empty her stomach, yet again, in the back corner of the reception hall. Dimly, she noted that she stood out in the open and was making quite a bit of noise, but she was helpless to stop herself.

When she finally teetered back to Malfoy on unsteady legs, he was resolutely evading her gaze, his head bent towards the baby. "Was it really that bad?" he asked, and his derision couldn't hide the tremor in his voice.

"Yes, Malfoy." Ginny shot him a glare and plopped down as her knees buckled beneath her. "It was really _that bad_." Ginny hesitated, a small ounce of pity warming in her again, as the dizziness melted away. "I think... she just bled to death. From the birth."

Malfoy breathed in sharply and glanced up. "And she was alone?"

"I didn't see anyone." Ginny shrugged and chewed her lip, in an effort to suppress the tears welling in her eyes. _Merlin_, but she hadn't felt so raw and powerless since Blaise died... she couldn't stand feeling so exposed. "I mean, it- it was Ron's office, and _someone_ had to have helped her. Someone cleaned him off, and wrapped him up, and hid him..." She shook her head, her anxiety for Ron returning as she glanced at the baby. "I think that's Ron's robe," she whispered.

"Are you saying..." Malfoy paused and fingered the black robe with a wrinkled nose, "...that _your brother_ delivered my baby?"

"I don't _know_, Malfoy!" Ginny bit back, suddenly angry without cause. "I didn't see him, I didn't see any trace of him! He could be-" She broke off abruptly. "I don't know what happened to him."

Malfoy stared at her a moment longer, resentment warring with anguish in his eyes. "But what was she _doing_ here?" he groused. Ginny was confused before she realized he was referring to Carina. "She shouldn't even have been here- there's just no reason..."

"Maybe she wanted to talk to you."

"Then what was she doing on the seventh level?" he snapped.

"Malfoy, I _don't know_." Ginny glared furiously at him. "I don't understand this any more than you do, all right?"

He blew out a harsh breath, returning his narrowed gaze to the baby in his arms. The sharp angles in his expression gradually softened as he watched his infant son, who was now fast asleep. "He seems awfully quiet."

"Oh." Ginny started a bit guiltily. "Er... do you have your wand?"

"Why?" Malfoy asked warily.

"I had to use a Silencing Charm on him," she admitted, "so no one would hear him crying."

"Why was he crying?" Malfoy demanded, his eyes going wide.

Ginny stared. "Because babies cry. All the time." Stifling the urge to roll her eyes at his baffled expression, she spotted his wand on the floor beside him and used it to remove the Silencing Charm. "Don't you know anything?"

Malfoy flinched and glanced away, and she instantly regretted the jibe. Draco Malfoy's knowledge of babies probably was very limited, now that she thought about it, and that had to be frightening, considering he was the only parent left to the baby.

"I'm sorry." Ginny sighed, dropping his wand and settling back on her heels.

Malfoy glared at her suspiciously. "For what?"

"For..." She faltered, suddenly unsure. "I mean, about... Carina."

A glimmer of sorrow flickered through his eyes, but this time, he didn't give himself the chance to be vulnerable again. Instead, his gaze hardened, and some part of him seemed to close off. "Well, don't be," he said shortly. "We didn't have a very meaningful relationship. She was only using me, after all."

"Malfoy!" Ginny gaped. "Don't!"

"Don't what?" he said waspishly. "It's true."

"No." Ginny leaned forward, anger boiling in her chest, and tried to look him in the eye. "Don't do this. Don't shut yourself off."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You don't get to just pack it all away and hide it some place where you don't have to deal with it," Ginny said, her words rapidly tumbling from her mouth. "You don't get to do that, not this time."

"And why not?" he demanded, his eyes blazing.

"Because you owe it to your son to have some sort of feelings," she shot back, "about his mother. What happens, Malfoy, when he gets older and he wants to know about Carina? Are you going to tell him what you just told me, that she didn't mean anything to you, that she used-"

"So I should lie to him?" Malfoy was positively seething, but Ginny thought she detected a hint of panic beneath the words. "Is that what you think?"

"I think you should be honest with yourself," Ginny snapped, "and let yourself grieve for her."

Malfoy clamped his mouth shut, but his chin quivered. He seemed determined to shut himself off, to hold his ground against admitting that she was right, but that panic behind his eyes spoke of lingering doubts, doubts that she knew better than he, that he didn't know anything about the right way to care for his son.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Ginny simply waited, while Malfoy stared at her, his expression unreadable. Then, without warning, he suddenly blinked, and a tear spilled down his cheek. She was quite startled as another tear fell, streaking his face. His expression remained hard and unchanged, and his eyes held her fast, completely unruffled by her gaping stare.

"Satisfied, Weasley?" he asked in a low voice, as a third tear ran down his face.

Ginny flinched and leaned back, distancing herself from him. "You're not crying," she said quietly. "Not really. You're not letting yourself feel."

"Well, too bad," he drawled, "because this is all you're going to get." A final tear graced his face, and then- just as suddenly as it began- he stopped with a single blink. His cheeks were still stained wet, but nothing more fell from his eyes. It was as though he could control his own tears.

"Damn it, Malfoy," Ginny muttered. "Even if you didn't care about her- which I refuse to believe- you have to be..." She shook her head in frustration. "I mean, doesn't it hurt you that she was probably scared? Having a baby, while the Death Eaters attacked?"

"Weasley," he said in a warning tone.

"You probably hadn't spoken to her in a while," she pushed on relentlessly, determined to get a real reaction from him. "Do you even know what kind of a life she wanted for her own baby? Don't you wonder what kind of things she'd bought for him-"

"Stop it!"

"-if she'd made any plans in case she died? Merlin's beard, don't you even want to know what she'd named him?" she finished on a note of exasperation.

Silence fell between them, and though he continued to stare at her fiercely, a shred of insecurity wavered in his eyes. He looked away, pausing to study his son for several seconds.

Ginny waited patiently, waited to see what kind of effect, if any, these words had on him. She watched as he swallowed, his Adam's apple swelling in his throat, and when he glanced up, his glare came through eyes shining with unshed tears. "Fine," he said from between gritted teeth. "Fine, Weasley. Have it your way. What-" His voice caught and he paused to take a breath. "What did she want to name him?"

"Er... sorry?" Ginny blinked.

"Carina." He spoke through ragged breaths, and, her confusion aside, Ginny realized his reaction was real this time, his every fiber throbbing with grief. "He should be named by his mother. What did she want to name him?"

Ginny stared. _How on earth should I know?_ she wondered, and she opened her mouth to tell him that she had no idea. But the words had scarcely reached her tongue when she stopped, taking in the expectant glimmer in his eyes. The desperation. Ginny swallowed and tried to ignore the crushing feeling in her chest. He needed this. He wanted something for his son, something from Carina.

But she couldn't help him; she really didn't have any clue what Carina might have wanted to name him. With a resigned sigh, Ginny glanced away and prepared to disappoint him. "I'm not-"

"I kind of thought," Malfoy murmured, turning his attention from her to his baby, "that I'd name a son Marcellus."

Ginny's jaw fell open. Marcellus? _Marcellus?_ Her chest swelled with indignation. Did he think, just because everyone laughed at _his_ name behind his back, that he should inflict the same misery upon his poor little boy? _Marcellus!_ Before she could stop herself, Ginny opened her mouth and blurted out, "His name is Will!"

Malfoy's eyes snapped up. "Excuse me?"

"Will..." Ginny's voice trailed off as she realized what she'd said, but somehow, she didn't stop, even as stunned as she was by her own words. "Will, it's... short for William."

"That's what she wanted to name him?" Malfoy's eyes locked on hers with a burning intensity.

"Um... well-" Unsure of what to say, Ginny found herself nodding dumbly.

"Will." Malfoy blew out a slow breath and slumped back, as though a huge weight had been lifted from him. "That's good."

Ginny stared, speechless. _I just named Draco Malfoy's son after my oldest brother._

Unsettled by the guilt churning in her gut over this deception, she cast a glance around for something to distract her. Remembering Malfoy's discomfort when she'd first woken him, she threw him a sharp glance to discern where and how he might have been injured. His robes were ripped and tattered across his torso, so she crept forward on her knees and squinted to get a better look.

"What are you doing?"

Ginny glanced up and scowled at the sneer on Malfoy's face. "I was going to actually _help_ you and look at this wound. It looks quite bloody." Ignoring his uncomfortable squirming, she leaned forward and poked at his chest.

"Ow! Just leave it, will you? What do you care, anyway?"

Ginny sighed and sat back. "I believe we already discussed why on earth I might possibly care about what happens to you." She eyed baby Will pointedly, and he grunted noncommittally. "Besides, I need to see if you'll be fit to walk. Now, will you set Will aside for just a second?"

Malfoy didn't reply, but his eyes darkened at this request.

"Just settle him on your lap." Ginny resisted the urge to grit her teeth. "All right?"

With the air of a spoiled child who'd been asked to give up his favorite toy, Malfoy settled the baby on his lap so that Ginny could lean over him and examine the bloody gash across his chest. He winced and muttered expletives beneath his breath as she probed the wound- as well as a few choice words about herself, she gathered.

With a grimace, Ginny leaned back and shook her head. "I'm no Healer, but it's bad."

"I could've told you that," Malfoy said snootily, taking his baby into his arms again.

"Well, do you think you can walk? We can't stay here."

"Why not?" Malfoy demanded. "We're hidden. No one's found us yet, and everything's gone pretty quiet. The ministry will get everything back under control soon, and-"

"Well, they've got the Aurors trapped somehow, on the second level," Ginny retorted. "I heard a couple of them talking. Malfoy, I just don't think we should risk staying here, not with him." She nodded to indicate baby Will. "You know how much the Death Eaters would like to get their hands on him."

"Well, no one knows he's here, do they?" Malfoy shrugged his shoulders and turned an almost-smiling gaze on his son. "And even if they did, no one knows he's mine."

Ginny's eyes widened. When only a stunned silence met his words, Malfoy glanced up quickly, suspicion tightening around his eyes. "Right?" he prodded.

"Well." Ginny cleared her throat. "Actually, I forgot to mention..."

"Mention _what?_"

"Your father is here." Ginny sighed.

Instead of the anxious exclamation Ginny expected, Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Well, of course he is, Weasley."

Ginny blinked. "Excuse me?"

Malfoy sighed, looking at Ginny as though she were the stupidest lout he'd ever had the ill-fortune to meet. "He _is_ a Death Eater," he reminded her, "and seeing as they've all come in full-force, why _wouldn't_ he be here?"

"All right," Ginny said crossly, "but Malfoy, that's not what I meant. I mean he's _here_, as in, I saw him. And he saw me. In Ron's office."

Malfoy's eyes widened. "He did? But what-"

"He tried to take Will from me," she interrupted.

"What?" Ginny was startled to see how disconcerting this news was to Malfoy. Surely he'd expected this? That was why he'd lied, after all. "But- but he wouldn't! I mean, how could he have _known?_"

Ginny shrugged. "I don't know, but he seemed very certain. I thought he was bluffing, at first, but he seemed to have some sort of proof. Anyway, one look at Will would confirm it, anyway. He looks like you- at least, as much as a wrinkly newborn can look like anybody."

"But even if he did know..." Malfoy emitted a small sound of distress. "Why would he try to take Will? He must have thought you were trying to kidnap him, or something-"

"Malfoy. No." Ginny shook her head, confused. "He wanted to take him to use him against you."

"He wouldn't do that!" Malfoy protested.

"Of course he would," Ginny said sharply, "and you know it as well as I do. Isn't that why you lied, to keep the Death Eaters from lording this over you?"

"The _Death Eaters_, Weasley," Malfoy bit out. "Not my own father."

"Your father _is_ a Death Eater," Ginny said coldly. Any pity she had for Draco Malfoy, for his innocent child, and even for his comatose mum, didn't extend to his father by any means.

Malfoy shot her a venomous glare. "He wouldn't try to take Will from me, all right? He's not the one who left me in prison when the others broke out, he's not the one calling for my head. That's Greyback and his lot."

"Greyback?" Ginny felt as though her insides had frozen. "But..." Her thoughts flew around the brutal werewolf and Bill, with his hideously scarred face. She remembered the night it had all happened- Greyback, and the Death Eaters which _Malfoy_ had let into the school. Her heart hardened. "But aren't the two of you old pals? You let him into Hogwarts, after all. You let him in to ravage the students and the staff and _my brother_-"

"I never knew Greyback was going to be there that night!" Malfoy spat, but his face had gone white. "Pals, weasel? No one is _pals_ with Fenrir Greyback, least of all me. He wants me dead more than any of them, and it's from the likes of him that I was trying to protect my son. _Not_ my father." His expression twisted without warning, doubt glimmering in his eyes. "Are you sure he meant to take him? What did he say to you?"

Ginny shook her head slowly, casting her mind back. "Malfoy, I don't... look, mostly he just tried to convince me that I couldn't trust you with an innocent baby anymore than I could trust him."

Malfoy blinked. "But- okay, but what else?"

"He said-" Ginny shrugged. "He said that you still serve You-Know-Who-"

"That's not true!"

"I know." Ginny cast her eyes heavenward. "He said your priorities were mixed up, and that if you had to choose between saving your own life and your baby's, you would save yours."

She dared an uneasy peek at Malfoy and found him staring at her with dark eyes. "That isn't true either," he said quietly.

"Malfoy, I _know_." Ginny swallowed, still stunned by her trust in him. Where on earth had it come from? When had it happened? "I know, all right? I gave him to you, didn't I? I could've left you here, but I didn't."

Malfoy stared at her a moment longer before dropping his gaze. If her eyes weren't fooling her, the tips of his ears were a bit pink. "Yes, well." He coughed. "Well, that doesn't-"

A murmur of voices caught Ginny's ears, and she interrupted Malfoy with a frantic wave of her hand, motioning for silence. His eyes widened as he shut his mouth, his gaze darting around as though he could see behind him. Tentatively, Ginny raised herself up on her knees to scout the area, but when she caught a glimpse of black robes headed their way, she dropped down instantly, crowding herself in behind the armchair beside Malfoy.

The urgency of the situation was so that neither of them objected to their proximity of each other. Malfoy carefully pulled Will into his right arm and shifted his legs aside to make room, while Ginny tried to make herself as small as possible, clutching onto his left arm and nearly sitting in his lap.

Ginny tried to keep quiet and still as the Death Eaters passed, but her anxious breathing sounded like thunder roaring in her ears. For fear of being heard, she ducked her head and buried her face in his chest. He winced- she'd forgotten about his wound- but she didn't move back. As a result, the Death Eaters voices were muffled and their words intelligible as they passed, and it wasn't until Malfoy shrugged his shoulder, pushing her away, that she realized they'd gone.

She let out a huge breath of relief and scuttled away from him. "Bloody wonderful time to go damsel-in-distress on me, weasel," Malfoy said sourly, shrugging his shoulder again in discomfort.

"I was not-" Ginny stopped herself and settled for an indignant sigh. "Never mind. Did you hear anything they said?"

He stared. "You didn't?" She opened her mouth to reply, but he smirked and added, "I guess it was a bit difficult to hear anything with your head shoved in my _bleeding_ chest."

"What did they say, Malfoy?" she asked, rolling her eyes.

He sobered immediately, uncertainty flicking over his face. "They mentioned Greyback. He's still here, in the building."

Ginny went cold. "We have to get the baby out of here."

"I agree." Malfoy spared his son a hesitant glance before peering around the armchair. "Listen, the Portkey Office is down to the right, that way." He jerked his head in indication. "That's the same way those Death Eaters went, so you'll have to be careful. But once you get in there, there should be emergency Portkeys that'll take you straight to the hospital, and that's where Will should-"

"Wait a minute." Ginny held up a hand. "Why are you talking like you aren't coming with me?"

"I can't walk like this, Weasley."

"You don't know that."

"Actually, I do." He sent her a level gaze, and for the first time, he allowed her to see the depth of pain hidden behind his eyes. "It was hard enough to keep running after that Stunning Spell earlier-"

"That was still bothering you? Why didn't you say something, you great prat!"

"-and this... curse, or whatever they shot at me, is too much on top of it." He sighed, evading her incredulous stare. "So you'll have to take Will and get him out of here. Now, like I said, there should be a sector of emergency Portkeys that will take you to hospital. They'll be marked. The emergency Portkeys are kept locked in the back room." He tossed his wand into her stunned hands. "_Alohomora_ should do it. And _don't_ drop Will during the Portkey, or that hex you performed fifth year will be nothing compared to what I do to you."

Ginny blinked dubiously, her fingers tightening around his wand. "Malfoy, you can't stay here."

"Well, too bad, because I'm not moving."

"Malfoy, you said it yourself, Greyback wants you dead! If someone finds you-"

"They _won't_, okay? Now get out of here, or I'll _Avada_ you myself."

Ginny hesitated, glancing between the empty corridor and a glaring Malfoy. "Well..." She shook her head. "All right, then. Give him to me." She held her arms out, gesturing towards the baby.

In spite of his insistence, Malfoy seemed to hesitate, pausing to give his son one last, searching glance.

"I won't let anything happen to him," Ginny vowed. "I promise, Malfoy."

He nodded, swallowed, and handed the baby over with a long sigh. "Good. Now get, _now_," he said, dismissing her with an impatient wave of his hand.

Ginny ignored his posturing and stood, glancing around before she took off running, as best she could, down the corridor to her right. Her lungs burned, and the pain in her wrist was now so tender that her arm, which grasped Malfoy's wand, was going numb. But she couldn't stop. She had to make it to the Portkey Office, had to get out of there and get Will to hospital.

She slowed cautiously as she approached a turn-off corridor on her left. According to Malfoy, she needed to keep heading straight on, but she didn't want to be taken unawares by any Death Eaters lying in wait around the corner. Paces away, she slowed her pace to stealthy creeping. Three steps- two- one-

She peered tentatively around the corner-

-and found herself face to face with a Death Eater.

Both Ginny and the Death Eater let out identical startled shouts. He was so close that she couldn't even think about using the wand; instead, she pitched a solid kick at his shin and spun around, sprinting off in the opposite direction. The Death Eater yelped in pain, but seconds later, she heard the Killing Curse shouted behind her. Throwing a harried glance over her shoulder, she just managed to duck and weave, avoiding the deadly curse. Aimlessly, she pointed Malfoy's wand over her shoulder and shouted, "_Impedimenta!_" but she didn't pause to see if her jinx had hit true.

Shouts echoed out behind her, indicating that more Death Eaters had joined in on the chase. Without warning, another jet of green light ricocheted off the wall beside her, coming so close that Ginny screamed, shielding Will away from the blast. A sickening jolt of fear shot through the pit of Ginny's stomach; these Death Eaters weren't interested in taking captives. They meant to kill her, and they were so close-

But she'd been running for a while; she had to be close to the Portkey Office now. She kept running, spotting a door up ahead on her right. Less than ten paces away, the door suddenly swung open in front of her, and a black-robed Death Eater stepped out. Before he had even fully turned in her direction, Ginny pointed Malfoy's wand and shouted, "_Stupefy!_" The startled Death Eater crumpled to the floor, but Ginny hadn't even slowed in her sprint. A couple paces away, she read the plaque outside the office door and found it to be a simple office, not the one she was looking for.

She kept running, but as she passed the open office door, where her Stunned Death Eater lay, a hand shot out from the doorway and yanked her back by her hair. Ginny let out a shriek as she was helplessly spun around, nearly dropping a bawling baby Will in the process. Desperately, she swung her wand arm around and delivered her attacker a glancing blow across his face. With a shout, he let go of her hair, and Ginny stumbled away, breaking into a run.

From what she could tell, a couple of Death Eaters still pursued her. Ginny shot a couple more Impediment Jinxes over her shoulder and never slowed. She was approaching two large double doors on her right; that had to be the Portkey Office, it just had to be. Without even pausing to check, she dashed through the doors.

Will was still crying, so she paused to immediately cast another Silencing Charm over him. She wasn't sure if any of the Death Eaters were still following her, if they had even seen her enter the Portkey Office, but she didn't take any chances. Wildly waving Malfoy's wand, she levitated a nearby desk across the room, pushing it up against the double doors. With that accomplished, she paused long enough to breathe and glance around.

In the front, main part of the office, desks and a couple of cubicles lined the walls, but a corridor broke off from the main room at the back. Breathing heavily, Ginny staggered off down the corridor. Malfoy had said that the emergency Portkeys were locked in a room at the back. She finally found the room she was looking for and, with some relief, leveled Malfoy's wand at the lock on the door. "_Alohomora_," she whispered.

But nothing happened. With a furrowed brow, Ginny tried the lock and found it still held tight. Stifling a scream of aggravation, Ginny kicked at the door but it wouldn't budge. "Damn you, Malfoy, you idiot!" she muttered. Heaving a frustrated sigh, she leaned back against the door. For a moment, out of breath, in pain, and completely caught up in the helplessness of the situation, she found herself at a loss.

She glanced down at the baby in her arms and hardened her resolve. She had to do this. She had to get this baby out of here. Noticing that his eyes were now closed and he seemed to have gone quiet again, Ginny dared to remove the Silencing Charm from him, whispering the incantation.

Her whispers, however, weren't quiet enough. As soon as she'd removed the charm, Will's murky grey eyes shot open. He took one look at Ginny's face and began to howl.

"Will, no, get quiet!" she hissed. She raised the wand to silence him again, but before she could utter the charm, a vociferous _crash_ down the corridor sounded out, followed by impatient shouts. Ginny gasped, realizing the Death Eaters had gotten inside. Before she could even see any of them coming down the corridor towards her, she turned towards the locked door and simply blasted it open, knocking it off its hinges. She paused only to shield a still bawling Will from the blast before scrambling inside.

Portkeys lined the walls on shelves, marked by their destinations on plaques overhead. Ginny scanned the signs desperately. "Hospital... hospital, St. Mungo's, come _on_."

Finally, on the far left wall at the back of the room, she found a plaque reading, "_Hospital- St. Mungo's._" She darted forward, stretching her arm out to grasp one of the Portkeys-

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

Ginny screamed and tossed herself to the right, barely missing the jet of green light. She scrambled around the corner, hiding herself behind a shelf. As the Death Eaters shot curses at her, blasting shelves and knocking Portkeys to the floor, she was irresistibly reminded of the time in her fourth year, when they'd gone for Sirius in the Department of Mysteries. Her heart lurched at the reminder, but she brought herself back to her senses. _No one is going to die here_.

She spun around long enough to send a Stunning Spell at the Death Eaters- only two of them, she thought- before spinning back around, safe behind the shelf serving as her barricade. Anxiously, she squinted at the wall across from her, where the shelves with the Portkeys leading to St. Mungo's were. She could lunge across the way for a Portkey, but she doubted she'd make it. She'd be hit with a curse for sure.

Still, another shelf rested slightly closer to her, and from what Ginny could make out- as she spun to blindly shoot another Stunning Spell- the plaque over this one read 'Hospital' as well. She narrowed her eyes, trying to make out the inscription following the word 'hospital.' Did it say St. Mungo's as well? She didn't see why it wouldn't, but it looked slightly different.

She'd have to chance it. Clutching a crying Will to her chest, she darted out from behind the shelf and aimlessly shot another curse at the Death Eaters. She lunged for the wall, a surge of satisfaction bursting through her as her fingers closed around a crumpled newspaper serving as a Portkey for the hospital.

But before she felt the telltale jerk at her navel, another curse came shooting for her. Dimly, Ginny recognized that the jet of light speeding for her was red, but it wasn't a Stunning Spell that the Death Eater had shouted. As the curse slammed into her side, a fiery pain lanced through her, and Ginny screamed. The agony was blinding, and even as she felt the Portkey sweep her and the baby away, a blissful oblivion swam through her senses, and then all she knew was blackness.

- - - - -  
**  
Author Notes:**  
I just wanted to say, I know the conversation between Draco and Ginny in this chapter is long and detailed and intense, but I wrote it that way because I think it's a really significant part, her giving him his baby. It really changes things between them, even if they don't realize it, and it's just a really emotional thing between them that they don't understand, so I tried to convey that.


	9. Chapter Eight

**Author's Notes: **Hello readers! Erm, so, I'm back. I _did_ say that I wouldn't ever abandon this fic. I just...let it go for a couple years. Anyway, whether you're still, by some miracle, an older reader following this fic, or a new reader, I hope you enjoy this chapter. I do intend to now continue and finish this fic (updating on a regular basis), but I guess I should make no promises, as I've learned in the past.

If you want to stay updated on my progress with this fic and get some cookies for future chapters, you can follow my livejournal: .com. Feel free to add me, but know I won't add you back unless you comment somewhere to let me know.

_______________________________________________________

**Chapter Eight**

*******

Someone was talking. The voice reached Ginny's ears before she could open her eyes, before she was fully awake, but she couldn't make out the words. Nothing made sense. She felt as though a thick blanket was swathed around her head, muffling sound, filling up her brain with wool so that she had to concentrate more than usual to understand anything.

"Mmmm," she mumbled, blinking her eyes open.

There was a pause in the incoherent babble, a second of silence, and then the voice became excited, the words rapid. The voice was clearer now, but something was still wrong. She still couldn't understand what they were saying. Then her vision shifted into focus, and as she was met by a round face and big brown eyes, she realized why.

This voice wasn't speaking in English.

Ginny blinked, taking her attention off of this anomaly for the moment. Fully awake now, her eyes traveled over the wide, plain bed she was lying in, the itchy dressing gown she was wearing, the empty bed, identical to her own, on the other side of the room, and the bright light beaming overhead.

She was in a hospital room, that, Ginny was sure of. But she didn't think it was St. Mungo's, which didn't make any sense at all. What other hospital would she be in? Come to think of it, why was she in a hospital in the first place? Ignoring the woman at her side, who looked like she might be some kind of Healer (though awfully young), and who was still speaking in French, Ginny cast her mind back and tried to remember why she might be in a hospital. But nothing came to her. She vaguely remembered being at home, talking with Hermione in the Floo about something. Making lunch plans, maybe? And then she went to bed for the night, and then…

Nothing. And then she woke up here, so far as she could tell. In a hospital. A hospital that was _not_ St. Mungo's.

Ginny started when the young French trainee suddenly shook her head sympathetically and bustled out of the hospital room. Confused, Ginny watched her go, and as the door swung open on her way out, she caught a glimpse of a man standing out in the corridor. It was just a flash, just a second or two, but Ginny saw, with a bit of alarm, that he was tall, imposing, and robed all in black.

_Death Eater?_ Ginny wondered, as the door swung shut.

She repressed a shiver, fighting back that surge of alarm. Ridiculous, or at the very least, jumping to conclusions. Many people wore black robes; it didn't mean they were Death Eaters. Still, if she was honest with herself, Ginny knew that it wasn't the black robes alone that made her think of Death Eaters. It was something else, some instinct, a fleeting thought in her mind. There was just…something about that man, something that, even in that single glimpse of him, unnerved her. Put her on her guard.

And the fact that he was standing just outside her hospital room unnerved her even more. Ginny glanced around the room, thinking if maybe she shouldn't try to leave. She had no idea where she _was_, in the first place, or how she'd gotten there, but everything just seemed a little off. A little dangerous. But if she was in a hospital, perhaps there was a reason. Certainly her head was pounding; simply trying to _think_, to process everything, worsened the hammering even more. Still, a headache was no reason to stay in a strange hospital. Her mind made up, Ginny straightened and swung her legs over the side of her bed.

A burning pain seared through her left arm as she shoved herself upright, and for the first time, Ginny realized her entire arm was bandaged, from shoulder to wrist, and it felt itchy, sort of sticky. She took a moment to take in the pain, to try to get used to it enough to ignore it, before she stepped out of the bed on tremulous legs.

The linoleum tile was cold beneath her bare feet, and Ginny shivered a little as she made her way slowly to the door. Besides her throbbing arm and her head, her sides felt a little sore, as though she'd recently done some physical exertion, and her wrist felt a little stiff when she flexed it, but it wasn't painful, exactly.

Ginny faltered when she reached the door, her hand hovering over the handle. What if that forbidding man was still out there? She didn't have a wand, and as much as her head was pounding, she wasn't sure she could run or fight anyone off, if she needed to. Her fingertips has just fallen on the door handle, still uncertain, when—

_Wham_. The door swung inward suddenly, and Ginny gasped and leapt back as it nearly _smacked_ her in the head. She tripped over her own feet and stumbled back, falling flat on her rear on the floor.

"_Pardon_—Ginny? What are you doing, out of ze bed?"

Wincing, Ginny glanced up at the source of this new—and yet familiar—voice. Her eyes widened when she realized who it was. It was one of the last people she would've expected to see. "_Gabrielle?_"

Long, shining hair pulled back in a braid, her eyes lit with concern, Gabrielle—Ginny's own sister-in-law, Gabrielle Delacour—exclaimed, "You should still be in ze bed! What were you theenking? You cannot go out zere, not now!"

Ginny gaped as Gabrielle bustled into the room, hastily but carefully helping Ginny to her feet. "Hang on—Gabrielle—" Once on her feet, Ginny held out a hand, forestalling Gabrielle from putting her back in the bed. "What are you _doing_ here? Don't you still live in…" Ginny's voice trailed off as the realization hit her like a smack across the face. Everything fell into place, and Ginny felt like a prize idiot for not putting the pieces together sooner. She swallowed. "In France," she finished, her voice coming out a bit faintly. Of course. She was in a hospital, a wizarding hospital—but not St. Mungo's—where everyone spoke French.

Gabrielle stared at Ginny, absently hustling her back into bed. "But zat is where you are! Do you not remember what 'appened to you? You are at ze 'ospital, in Paris. Remember, I—"

"—work here now." Ginny nodded, still trying to process it. How had she ended up in _France?_ And why couldn't she remember? Had someone put a Memory Charm on her? "Yes, I…remember that, anyway. You're a trainee, right?"

Gabrielle nodded. "Well, yes, I only just graduated. I 'ave not worked long enough to be a fully-qualified 'ealer yet." She smiled, in a way that Ginny supposed was meant to be reassuring, but her eyes were worried as she tossed a glance over her shoulder, as though checking the door was still shut. "But never mind zat. Ginny, what 'as 'appened to you? You were zere, when your Ministry was attacked, yes?"

"When…_what?_" Ginny's jaw dropped open. "The Ministry was attacked? When? How?"

Gabrielle stared at her. "You 'ave not 'eard? But I was theenking you were zere…"

"Gabrielle, I think—I can't really…remember anything." Ginny shook her head slowly. "I mean, the last thing I remember was talking to Hermione, and then…I went to bed. The next thing I know…" She lifted her hands, gesturing around her.

"The next zing you know you are 'ere?" Gabrielle looked puzzled. "And…what were you talking to 'ermione about? Where?"

Ginny shrugged. "At home, I think. I'm not sure, but I think we were making plans to meet up tomorrow…for lunch, I suppose?" _Of course!_ She snapped her fingers suddenly, as it came back to her. "Yes, we were going to meet Ron for lunch! At the…" She swallowed, as more pieces of the puzzle fell into place. "At the Ministry."

"So you were zere?"

"I…probably." Ginny shut her eyes, drawing on her memory banks, but everything came up blank. "But Gabrielle, I don't _remember_ any attack. Not at all. What happened? How bad was it, was anyone—"

"I don't know much about eet," Gabrielle cut in, "but zat, we can talk about later, yes? For now, you must leesten to me. You are in danger 'ere."

"But there's—wait, what? Danger?" Ginny's eyes darted to the door, immediately thinking of the black-robed man whom she'd seen outside. "What danger? What do you mean?"

"Leesten to me," Gabrielle said, her tone urgent. "Anuzzer of ze trainees 'as gone to get ze 'ealer in charge of you, and when she comes in, you must pretend you are still sleeping, yes? Zere eez no time to explain eet all now, but no one must know who you are, yes? So pretend to be sleeping, and I will say zat you 'ave told me what 'appened to you. I will give a false story, to explain ze baby and all of eet."

Ginny blinked. "Explain the…what, sorry?" _Did she say baby? I must have heard her wrong._

Gabrielle didn't seem to have heard her either, as she rushed on, "Later, we must figure out 'ow to get you out of 'ere, yes? But right now, eet eez not safe. Not wiz your injuries, and not wiz—" She tossed another frightened glance over her shoulder. "Not wiz—_zat man_—out zere."

"What man?" Ginny shoved herself upright, leaning forward. "That man in the black robes? Who is he, Gabrielle? What is he doing here?"

"Do you not recognize 'im?" Gabrielle fretted. "'e is much wanted, in your country. I would theenk zere would be posters of 'im everywhere. But, of course, zere are so many, I theenk—"

Ginny cut in, dread pooling in her gut. "You mean…he's a Death Eater?"

Gabrielle nodded. "Lestrange. Rabastan Lestrange."

A chill prickled down Ginny's spine. Brother-in-law to Bellatrix Lestrange. He had been at the Ministry in her fourth year, when they had been after the prophecy. "But how…I mean, what's he doing _here?_ Surely he's wanted here, as well? Why doesn't someone call Aurors, arrest him?"

"Things are not so eezy 'ere, anymore, in France, Ginny." Gabrielle chewed her lip. "Ever since 'e-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named disappeared again, ze Death Eaters…zey 'ave much power now, 'ere in France. No one knows much for sure, but zey 'ave taken over our Ministry, it seems. As zey did in your country, five years ago. Zey keep it all quiet, yes? But zey are in power 'ere. Zere is not much zat can be done."

"But still…what is Lestrange doing here?" Ginny demanded. "At the hospital?"

Gabrielle shrugged, looking helpless. "I theenk Lestrange is 'ere in case…well, in case anyone like you comes 'ere. From your Ministry, from ze attack. Right now…I do not know 'ow you can leave without 'im knowing." Worry crossed her face. "Especially with ze baby. 'e cannot stay 'ere, I am theenking."

Ginny blinked. There it was again. "What _baby?_"

***

The dense silence in the hospital room was broken as the door eased open. Lupin turned in his chair, glancing around to see Hermione Granger slumping in the doorway.

She looked a mess. A shaken, bloodstained mess. Her bushy hair stood out wildly, her robes rumpled and torn. The ashen face she turned on him was marked by a helpless expression, the only bit of life in her at all, searing through her eyes.

Lupin rose to his feet, turning to face her fully. "Hermione," he said softly, his voice rusty as though from disuse. "What are you doing here? Is there any—"

"No news." Her words came out in a dead croak. She cleared her throat, but when she spoke again, he could hear no difference. "I—they wanted me to..." She stopped and drew a trembling breath. "Look at some bodies. To see if—" She broke off as her voice cracked.

Lupin's heart wrenched. "I don't think that's necessary."

"Yes, well..." Hermione cast her gaze past Lupin, coming to rest on the occupant of the hospital bed. "Is _he_ going to be all right?" she asked.

Lupin glanced around with a sigh, following Hermione's gaze. The patient's eyes were shut, and his breathing smooth and even. One would have thought he were merely sleeping, were it not for the heavy bandages wrapped around his torso. "It's too early to tell, I'm afraid," he murmured in reply. "If he doesn't wake soon, he's a good chance of going the way of his mother."

Hermione's eyes drifted away from the bed to glance at Lupin in confusion. "His mother?"

"Comatose," Lupin said shortly. "Permanently."

"Terrible," Hermione whispered, her gaze returning to the young man in the bed. Lupin opened his mouth to respond, but Hermione changed tack suddenly. "I heard about Carina Moon."

Lupin shut his mouth tightly. "Yes. It's—"

"The baby died, didn't it?" And when Hermione glanced his way again, Lupin was startled by the depths of sorrow in her eyes.

"That's—unconfirmed. Hermione—"

"Terrible," she repeated, glancing over at the bed one last time. "Nothing...no one left."

"Hermione—"

"I've got to go," she said suddenly, turning to leave.

"Hermione," Lupin tried a third time. Hermione stopped in her tracks, but didn't turn to face him or give him any audible reply. "Hermione, once you've..." He coughed. "Once you've attended to your business here, you should go home."

"Home?" she echoed. Something that might have been a laugh, in different circumstances, escaped her lips. "I can't go home."

"You should go to the Burrow and—"

"That's even worse." Her words came out harshly, filled with unshed tears. "I—no, I have to keep looking."

"Hermione," Lupin tried again, more firmly.

"I've got to go." And with those rushed, parting words, she fled from the room, before he could say anything else to stop her.

Lupin sighed as the door shut behind her. He returned to his chair beside Draco Malfoy's bed, slumping down in a resigned manner. He watched the young man through careful eyes and was rewarded, a moment later, when Draco shifted, turning his head just a smidge.

Lupin's eyes narrowed and he leaned forward slowly in his chair. "Draco?"

Draco shifted again, more insistently this time. Lupin was halfway to his feet, ready to call for a Healer, when Draco muttered unintelligibly—and his eyes shot open.

Lupin froze. He waited for some further response, but when none came, he bent down to level a stare directly at Draco's open eyes. "Draco?" he prompted quietly.

Nothing. Draco gazed back unblinkingly, but said nothing.

"Draco," Lupin reiterated, "can you hear me? Draco." When the young man's eyes began to flutter, Lupin repeated, more insistently, "_Draco_. Draco, stay awake—"

But his eyelids slid shut, and before he returned to his comatose state, he let out a small sigh and murmured, "Will..."

Dismayed, Lupin straightened, watching Draco with a perplexed expression. Will what?

***

_I won't let anything happen to him. I promise, Malfoy…_

Ginny started awake, wrenching herself out of nightmares. She tried to remember what she'd been dreaming about, because she thought it might've had something to do with the attack on the Ministry—the attack she could not remember. But all that came to her were vague images of wreckage and blood, and her own voice, speaking to…who? She couldn't remember that part. And a baby crying…

Ginny shivered, sitting up straight in the darkness of her room. It must have been very late, or else, very, very early morning, but she couldn't seem to really get to sleep. The things she couldn't remember were driving her insane. Especially the things about the baby.

_Where could I have gotten a baby? What would a baby be doing at the Ministry? And whose is it?_ Gabrielle hadn't been able to tell her much beyond the fact that when she'd Portkeyed into the hospital, injured and unconscious, she'd had a baby with her, a rather small, bawling baby that she'd nearly dropped before someone got to it. Damn it, _why_ couldn't she remember? What had happened? Gabrielle had said she'd suffered a head injury—pretty obvious, judging by her headache—but she didn't think it severe enough to cause memory loss, especially since they'd mended it fairly well. Which left a Memory Charm. Well, Gabrielle had cautioned that it still may have been caused naturally—she'd explained that sometimes people forgot things because they were so horrible, that they just blocked them out—but Ginny had ruled that out. What could be so horrible that she wouldn't even remember it?

She didn't like having bits of her memory gone like this. It was too much like first year at Hogwarts, when she'd lost pieces of time…when Voldemort had been possessing her.

Ginny shivered. Thinking about Voldemort inevitably led to thoughts of the Death Eaters, who, these days, were almost a more frightening threat than You-Know-Who himself. Especially here in France, it seemed. Ginny had heard rumors, back when she still worked for the Ministry, but she had no idea things were so bad here in the Continent. Even more reason to get out of this place, as soon as possible.

But now she had this baby to worry about. Ginny hadn't any idea who he was, or how she'd ended up with him, but she knew she couldn't just leave him. He probably—_hopefully_¬—had parents back in England. He needed to get back to his home just like she did.

Gabrielle had told her not to worry, but sitting in her dark hospital room, hazy remnants of her violent dreams still clouding her mind, she was seized with a sudden urgency. Surely Lestrange wasn't loitering about in the corridors anymore? And even if he was, she could sneak by. If she could just find out where the baby was being kept, then she could take him, and then they could get out—

She would have to try. Sliding out of her bed as quietly as she could, Ginny shrugged her shoulder back experimentally, trying to ignore the soreness of her arm. Gabrielle said she'd been hit with a hex, some kind of burning hex, and that she'd suffered some burns to her left arm that they hadn't been entirely able to heal yet.

Well, she would get by, anyway. Taking careful steps, she crossed the room and slipped into the dimly-lit corridor. It was empty now, no Healers—and no Lestrange—in sight. Easing her way along the wall, she wondered how she could find the baby. If she could just find a directory of some sort…of course, it would probably all be in French…

Just ahead, someone rounded a corner, facing Ginny. Ginny felt her eyes widen, and she tried to spin around to get back to her room, but it was no good; whomever it was had clearly seen her. As the person rushed down the hall towards her, Ginny realized it was the Healer in charge of her case, an older woman with a messy, grey-streaked bun and a pouchy sort of face. Ginny thought her name was…Labeau, if she remembered hearing correctly. She descended on Ginny, speaking in hushed but rapid French, taking Ginny by the arm. She seemed to be asking Ginny some questions, and chiding her as well, judging by her tone, but Ginny hadn't a clue what the woman was saying. Even after years of having Fleur for a sister-in-law, her French was pretty minimal.

Healer Labeau paused in her onslaught of French, looking at Ginny with an expectant and slightly confused light in her eyes. Ginny supposed she was waiting for some kind of answer—probably as to what she was doing out of bed and in the corridor.

"I was just, erm…" Ginny hesitated, unsure what to say. Then again, as this woman seemed to know little English, she supposed it didn't really matter. "I just thought I'd—erm—" She cast a desperate look down the corridor, past the Healer. How to get away?

But suddenly, Healer Labeau's face lit up, as though with understanding. "_Ah, oui! L'enfant?_" She descended again into rapid French, but now she was smiling, patting Ginny on the arm. Before Ginny could puzzle out what she was saying now, a voice sounded out from behind her.

"Gin—ah, Jaime? What are you doing out of ze bed?"

Ginny whirled around, relieved to see Gabrielle hurrying towards them. Gabrielle's concocted story about Ginny had included changing her name to 'Jaime,' just in case Lestrange or anyone else recognized her name for a Weasley. "I was just…erm—I have no idea what she's saying," she whispered, indicating the beaming Healer.

Gabrielle turned to Healer Labeau questioningly, who went off in French again. Gabrielle nodded several times, and then, as Labeau finished, her face lit in understanding. "Well, she did not want you of bed, of course," Gabrielle explained, "but she theenks you wanted to see ze baby. Ah…your baby."

Ginny smiled back uncertainly at Healer Labeau. Apparently, Gabrielle's concocted story also involved Ginny being the _mother_ of this baby. She hadn't caught that part herself. "Won't she be able to tell if I've given birth recently?" Ginny asked through gritted teeth, still smiling at Labeau. "She _is_ a Healer."

Gabrielle shrugged. "I told 'er I examined you myself."

"Well…all right then." Ginny's jaw was beginning to hurt from smiling so much. "Then, just tell her I'll go get him, and—"

"I don't theenk she will let you do zat," Gabrielle said in dismay, as Healer Labeau patted Ginny's arm one last time, said something to Gabrielle, and hurried off down the corridor. "She 'as gone to get 'im 'erself. Besides, you should be in bed." She tugged lightly at Ginny's arm, leading her back to her room. "You were trying to leave, yes? But Ginny, I told you I would 'elp. And you should wait, I theenk. You are not well yet."

"I can get well in St. Mungo's," Ginny grumbled. "You yourself said I was in danger here. So once she gets here with the baby, the two of us can just get out of here and—"

"And what?" Gabrielle demanded, shutting the door to Ginny's room behind them. "Ginny, do you not understand? You of course cannot Apparate all ze way to England wiz ze baby—"

"Well, I wasn't planning on—"

"—and you cannot Floo out. Eet eez not advisable wiz a baby anyway, and ze Floos are being watched."

Ginny blinked. "They are?"

"Yes, I told you. Ze Death Eaters, zey are in our Ministry. Zey are everywhere. And if you try to activate a Portkey, eet will be detected also, because zey 'ave not authorized eet."

All of this sunk into Ginny with dismay as she allowed Gabrielle to help her back into bed. "Then how…what, are we going to have to fly out? I can't fly across the English Channel with a baby! We'd freeze to death, and I'd have told to hold him or some—"

"Zat is why you need 'elp," Gabrielle interrupted. She glanced around, as though to make sure they were still alone. "I 'ave sent an owl to my seester, in England. I wrote in such a way zat no one else will understand, if eet eez intercepted, yes? So zey will know, someone will come to 'elp you."

Ginny opened her mouth to ask what exactly this owl letter contained, but then the door opened, and Healer Labeau entered, a small bundle in her arms. She smiled at Ginny as she brought the baby to Ginny's bedside. Ginny forced a smile in return, but she felt a bit uneasy as the sleeping baby was handed to her. Here was the root of her confusion—the root of her lost memories, it almost seemed.

Healer Labeau was saying something in French again, babbling away to her and Gabrielle, but Ginny ignored her and stared at the sleeping baby in her arms. He was rather small, and his pinkish skin rather pale, for a newborn. She frowned, her eyes running over the few smooth, fair hairs on his head, over his tiny mouth, his nose…

Then he squirmed a little, blinking his eyes open. They were clouded with sleep, but Ginny could see their color now—a deep grey, almost blue. He looked up at her, with those vulnerable grey eyes, and he started to cry.

Ginny suddenly felt as though she'd been knocked to the ground, as though all the breath in her body had left her. She couldn't say what it was, exactly—maybe it was the eyes, or—well, anything. But suddenly—for _some_ reason—she knew. "Merlin," she whispered, lifting up the bawling baby to look him head-on.

Healer Labeau moved forward as though to take the baby, but Ginny shook her head at her to wave her off. Gabrielle looked at her uncertainly. "Gi-Jaime? What eez eet? You still do not know 'im?"

"I think I do," Ginny breathed. With a start, she realized he was crying and hastily lowered him to her chest, putting his head to her shoulder and trying to soothe him into silence. "I…he looks—" She broke off, throwing Labeau a quick glance.

Gabrielle followed her gaze and sprang up, saying something to the Healer in French, her tone meek as though in suggestion. Labeau nodded thoughtfully and left the room, much to Ginny's relief.

"I said zat maybe 'e was crying because 'e needed to be fed," Gabrielle explained. "She went to check 'is chart. But I theenk 'e was just fed, not long ago."

"Just not sleepy, then," Ginny sighed, rubbing a hand over the baby's back.

"But, Ginny, you said—you theenk you know who 'e is? Who 'e belongs to?"

Ginny nodded, shifting the baby to her opposite shoulder so she could look Gabrielle in the face. "I think—I think he may be…" She paused, swallowing. "My…friend, Carina. She was due to have a baby—or, well, I think she was due soonish. But maybe not for another month—"

"Zis baby is very leetle," Gabrielle pointed out, looking the bawling infant over. "Probably, 'e was born early. No more than a month, 'owever."

"That seems right," Ginny murmured, thinking back. She hadn't really spoken to Carina, not in a long while, and she hadn't been at Order meetings in ages, but Ginny was sure the timing was right. "And…I mean, I don't know. I could be wrong, I suppose, but for some reason…" She shook her head. "I just—I really think he is. Hers, I mean. He looks like her, I suppose." Ginny paused. "And like his father."

Her thoughts dwelled very briefly on that time in Malfoy Manor all those months ago, before fleeing from that very memory. It was a memory that made her distinctly uncomfortable, and not because she'd found out Malfoy was this baby's father, either.

"But zis baby eez very young." Gabrielle frowned. "Maybe only a few days old, yes? Or not even zat. I am not saying you are wrong," she added hastily, "but…" She spread her hands helplessly.

"But how did I end up with him," Ginny mused, "if I was at the Ministry." She shook her head. What would he have been doing at the Ministry? What would Carina have been doing at the Ministry? _Seeing Malfoy maybe_, she thought. _Or any number of things, I suppose._ She sighed, shaking her head. "I have no idea. I mean, I haven't even spoken to Carina—my friend—in months."

"Why not? If you are friends?" Gabrielle tilted her head.

Ginny shrugged. "Well…I don't know," she said lamely. The truth was, their "friendship" had all been a ruse, anyway. Or at least, that's all it was supposed to have been. Ginny liked to think they _had_ become friends, of a sort. But Carina had lost touch with most everyone, it seemed, once she found out she was pregnant, once she'd broken things off with Malfoy.

"And ze father?" Gabrielle prompted. "Is 'e also a friend?"

Ginny grimaced. "I haven't seen him in a while, either. We…don't really know each other," she said, also rather lamely. _That's funny_, an annoying little voice in her head said, as her thoughts drifted back to that evening in Malfoy Manor, that evening she'd gone all feverish and delusional and—

Ginny shook her head, as though to clear it of those thoughts, hoping she hadn't gone red. She thought she must have blushed something awful, because Gabrielle had a mischievous grin playing at her lips, but then she leaned forward, resting her fingertips softly atop the baby's head. Ginny glanced down in surprise, suddenly realizing he'd gone quiet. Asleep again.

"If I 'ad a baby boy," Gabrielle said, still grinning, "I would name 'im Andre. Or maybe Henri." Her grin grew even more impish, and Ginny thought she knew why. Henri. Henry. Harry.

Ginny smiled softly. "I suppose this one's nameless." She glanced down at the sleeping baby. "Or at least, we don't know his name."

"What would you name a boy?" Gabrielle asked.

"Erm…" Ginny shrugged. She'd never much thought about it. Well, not in a while, anyway. "I used to think I'd name a son William. After Bill, you know." Ginny smiled ruefully. "But I don't know."

Just then the door opened, and Gabrielle jumped nearly a foot in the air. Ginny, thankfully, did not (if she had, the baby probably would've woken again), but she understood the instinct; the room had grown so peacefully quiet, and the atmosphere so calm, that she'd nearly forgotten the situation they were in.

But it was only Healer Labeau, returning. She smiled to see the baby sleeping again, then turned to shake her head at Gabrielle, speaking to her in French.

"She says 'e 'as been fed already," Gabrielle said, nearly in a whisper, with a careful eye on the baby. "We can take 'im back now, if zat eez all right."

"Of course." Ginny carefully handed the dozing baby back to Healer Labeau, who smiled at Ginny and said something to her in French—another question, by the look on her face.

Gabrielle bit her lip, almost as though to stifle a laugh. "She wants to know 'is name," she said to Ginny.

Ginny's mouth dropped open. "Oh…erm—it's…"

"William," Gabrielle cut in, shaping the name curiously in her French accent. Labeau smiled again and nodded, murmuring softly to the baby as she backed out of the room. Ginny threw Gabrielle an incredulous glance, but her sister-in-law only shrugged, that impish grin back on her face.

"You said you would name a boy William." Gabrielle giggled. "And 'e eez supposed to be yours, after all."

Ginny settled back on her pillows, suddenly exhausted. "I suppose." She frowned, as something just occurred to her. "Gabrielle…you'll watch over him, won't you? I mean…try to keep Lestrange or any of his pals from…finding out about him."

"Of course." Gabrielle looked puzzled. "But…what eez eet? You theenk…ze Death Eaters would want him for somezing?"

Ginny shrugged, not sure that she should divulge Malfoy as the father, even to someone she trusted. "You never know."

Gabrielle, thankfully, seemed to understand. "Well, I do not know what zey would want wiz 'im," she said, getting to her feet, "but you can be sure I would do all I can to keep a baby away from Death Eaters." Ginny must have still looked anxious, because the girl patted her bed and smiled. "Do not worry, Ginny. 'e will be all right."

"I know." Ginny shut her eyes. "Of course. It's just…I promised his father I wouldn't let anything happen to him."

"What?" Gabrielle, who had turned to leave, spun around. "Didn't you say you 'ad not seen 'im in a while?"

Ginny's eyes flew open. She stared at Gabrielle, opened her mouth to speak, then shut it again. She _hadn't_ seen him in a while, not for months…so where had that come from? _When did I ever promise him anything?_

"Well." Ginny shifted uneasily. "I guess I was wrong."

***

_"...I won't let anything happen to him. I promise..."_

Her words grew distant and began to slip away, and then Draco felt his eyelids begin to twitch. There was light right outside of them. Curious to find out why, Draco tentatively opened his eyes.

For a moment, he was completely blinded, and then, "Draco? I do hope you'll stay awake this time."

Draco blinked several times, and finally he could see again. He found himself staring at Remus Lupin, of all people. "Wh-what?" he croaked.

Lupin left his bedside, opened the door to poke his head outside, and said, "Send for the Healer. He's awake." He returned a moment later, his face etched with weariness.

"What happened?" Draco's voice sounded shaky to his own ears. He glanced around. "Where am I?"

"St. Mungo's," Lupin informed him. "You were seriously injured at the Ministry, Draco. Do you remember that?"

Draco thought back. "I...yes?" He remembered the terror and desperation, fighting to find some way to escape the danger of the Death Eaters. He'd been injured, he'd collapsed behind an upturned chair on the sixth floor, certain he was going to die, when—

Draco's eyes widened. "Weasley!" he gasped out. He looked to the werewolf, not even caring to wonder what Lupin was doing there, at his bedside, in the first place. "Where is she? And Will?"

"Weasley?" Lupin furrowed his brow. "Are you referring to Ginny Weasley?"

"Yes! And my son, she had my son—did they get out safely? Did they get to the hospital? Are they here, still?"

Looking concerned now, Lupin pulled up a chair at Draco's bedside and seated himself. "Draco, do you know what happened to Ginny Weasley during the battle? Hermione said the two of you were with her, but she lost you when she reached the seventh level. And...what is this about your child?" There was a strangely sad, yet hopeful look in Lupin's eyes when he said this.

"Yes," Draco asserted. "Weasley and I were separated after this explosion on the staircase. Granger wouldn't have known, she'd run on ahead without us. But once the battle had mostly died down—well, on the sixth floor, anyway—Weasley found Will—that's my son—she found him, in her brother's office, with Carina, she—" Draco stopped and swallowed. "She was already dead," he said hoarsely, "but she took Will, she managed to escape with him past my father—"

"She confronted your father?" Lupin cut in.

"He was after Will," Draco said impatiently. Why wouldn't Lupin simply tell him where his son was? "He knew, somehow, that he was my son, but Weasley got past him and brought Will to me; I was unconscious, but she woke me up and gave Will to me—"

"This was after the battle was over?"

Draco shrugged with frustration. "I don't know! I suppose so. Everything was quiet where we were, but there were still Death Eaters hanging about, so I told Weasley to get an emergency Portkey from the Portkey Office, one that would take her to hospital—and then?" Draco's face fell. "And then...I don't know. I blacked out, I guess. So is he all right? Did Weasley get out with my son?"

Lupin sighed. "Draco," he said gently, "Ginny Weasley has been missing ever since the battle."

Draco blinked. "What do you mean?" he demanded anxiously.

"You've been in a coma for three days now," Lupin told him, "since you were found among the injured survivors at the Ministry. Ginny Weasley has been missing ever since then. Your...son was presumed dead."

Draco stared. "Wh-what?" he asked shakily. "But he—he can't be, Weasley promised she wouldn't let anything happen to him!"

"Draco, calm down," Lupin said. "He was presumed dead because, though Carina's body was found—" Lupin watched him carefully when he said this, as though to judge whether or not her death had affected him, "—there was no trace of your son. Carina, however, had clearly given birth. However, it sounds as though he may be alive and well—wherever Ginny Weasley is."

"Isn't anyone looking for her?" Draco demanded. He really couldn't care less about Weasley, not right now, certainly, but if she still had his son?

"Of course, Draco. Besides her family and friends, the Aurors are still looking for her. A Locator spell was done on her wand, but—"

"She lost it during the attack ," Draco interrupted. "I gave her my wand."

"We'll try to locate it, then," Lupin said gravely. "You say she was heading for an emergency Portkey?"

Draco nodded. "But she should've come here. To the hospital."

"Well, she didn't," Lupin said with a furrowed brow. "Perhaps she took another one, however. One that led her somewhere else. Those emergency Portkeys should be taken stock of, to see if we can figure out if any are missing."

"The hell it should," Draco growled. "She's got my son with her, damn it! She has to be found!"

"She will be," Lupin said, rising to his feet with a weary sigh. "Now, I advise you not to worry and try to get some rest. The moment Ginny Weasley and your son are located, you'll be the first one informed."

Once the werewolf was gone, Draco leaned his head back with an aggravated moan. He was tired, but he doubted he'd be getting any sleep. Lupin could tell him not to worry a million times over, but this was his son they were talking about. And though Draco didn't like to admit it, he'd realized, from the moment Weasley had placed the baby in his arms, that his son _was_ the perfect tool to use to control him. Because Draco knew, beyond any doubt, that he'd move heaven and earth—and hell besides—to keep his son safe. And he wasn't going to wait around to do it.

- - - - -

**Author's Notes:**

Thanks for reading and reviewing!


	10. Chapter Nine

**Author's Notes: **Once again, if you'd like to stay updated or find some cookies for future chapters, you can check out my livejournal. My username on LJ is littlebit_liz.

Since it's been a while, I just wanted to remind everyone that this fic is compliant through HBP. I have tried to make it compliant with DH in small ways, as much as I can, but it really can't be fully compliant with DH, since the whole premise of this fic is based on the fact that Voldemort isn't dead yet. So I consider it compliant with DH up to a certain point.

________________________________________________________

**Chapter Nine**

*******

A kind of gloom had wrapped itself around the Ministry, the darkness and the wreckage giving it the feel of an abandoned graveyard. Draco picked through the rubble warily, a chill prickling down his back. He was sure that, during the day, Ministry workers were doing everything they could to restore the place as soon as possible, but at night, it was empty and eerie.

He cursed as he tripped over a splintered table, a shock of pain burning through his ripped torso, which was still bandaged heavily beneath his robes. He grimaced as he straightened and continued down the corridor. Certainly the sixth level hadn't had much work done on it yet, which Draco found irritating and stupid, considering the sixth level ran Transport. Which was fairly important.

An incredulous part of his mind was berating him for his idiocy in leaving the hospital and coming down here in the first place, but as far as Draco was concerned, there was no other option. Lupin hadn't said as much, but besides the fact that his son—and Weasley—could be anywhere, in any condition, there was still the danger of the Death Eaters. If Weasley was to be believed (and as much as he didn't want to, he couldn't help but speculate), then his father was after Will, and by extension, possibly other Death Eaters were as well. And Draco _had_ to get there before them.

Ignoring the sting of his father's betrayal (and the sting of his injuries), Draco turned his focus to his present task, as he reached the Portkey Office. He found the shelf holding Portkeys for St. Mungo's almost immediately. After quickly running his eyes over it, it seemed obvious that none of them were missing, not that he could tell just by looking, anyway. Which confirmed only what he already knew; Weasley had not gone to St. Mungo's. He turned, scouring the rest of the nearby shelves, which were incredibly dusty, considering that emergency Portkeys were almost never used. Thanks to the dust, it didn't take long for his eyes to fall upon an empty spot on one of the shelves, a space between two Portkeys that was _not_ covered in dust. Indicating that, until a little while ago, it had held a Portkey as well.

Draco bent forward to read the plaque identifying the Portkey's destination. If Weasley had taken this one, then she'd gone to—

"What do you think you're doing here?"

Draco jumped a foot in the air, spinning around in shock. He froze when his eyes fell upon a dark figure in the doorway. The shadows shifted as the figure stepped forward, and a witch materialized out of the darkness, her hair askew, her clothes rumpled, and somewhat thinner than he remembered.

"Granger?" Draco heaved a deep sigh of relief, but threw a glare her way at the same time. "What do you think you're _doing_, sneaking around here at night? You almost gave me a heart attack!"

Granger crossed her arms beneath her chest coolly. "I could ask you the same question, Malfoy. In fact, I think I just did."

Draco surveyed her appearance with undisguised contempt. The Mudblood looked as though she'd been living off the streets for a few weeks. Summoning a familiar smirk, he asked, "What happened to _you?_"

"Answer the question, Malfoy." Her tone was flat, dull. Unlike the incensed anger he usually got from her.

"Not that it's any of your business—" Draco sneered "—but I'm going after Weasley."

Granger's reaction was nothing he expected. Instead of being surprised or questioning his motives, she blanched considerably and sucked in a sharp breath. "You're _what?_" The demand came out like a strangled gasp.

"Ginny Weasley?" Draco said impatiently. Really, what was _wrong_ with her? "I'm going to find her, and my son, and bring them back."

There was a long pause while Granger seemed to regain her composure, though Draco couldn't say why she'd lost it in the first place. "Why?" she asked finally, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Going after Ginny? What do you plan to do to her, Malfoy?"

"In case you'd forgotten, Granger," Draco said coldly, "I don't usually go around _doing_ things to you people anymore. I didn't do anything to Weasley when she went all wonky and collapsed in my house, did I? Not to mention, I seem to recall saving your life just a few days ago."

"Only so you wouldn't be indebted to me."

Draco shrugged. "Saving is saving, isn't it?"

He expected an eye roll or some self-righteous comment, but for a moment, Granger said nothing, did nothing, but stared at him. Then, "I thought he was dead," Granger remarked, casually, as though talking about the weather. "Your baby."

"Everyone _assumed_ he was dead," Draco said dismissively. "Having seen him myself, I happen to know better. Weasley found him and brought him to me. She was _supposed_ to get him to safety after that, from here—" Draco grimaced, glancing back at the empty spot where a Portkey had been, "—but she took the wrong Portkey. Stupid bint," he muttered, more to himself than to Granger. "Can't she read?"

He almost jumped again when the Mudblood came forward suddenly, a frown on her face now. "Where did she go, then?" she asked, peering towards the shelf as well.

"The wizarding hospital in Paris." Draco sighed, straightening up. "At least, I think she did. There's a Portkey missing, anyway."

"_Anyone_ could have taken that Portkey, Malfoy." Ah, there was the eye roll from Granger. "And I don't think you want to go harping off to France on the off-chance Ginny and your son _might_ be there. France isn't exactly the safest place to be right now."

Draco froze. "What do you mean?" he asked slowly.

Granger shrugged. "Well, all we've got is rumors, but—"

"What do you _mean_, Granger?" Draco growled.

"You still haven't explained why you care to bring Ginny back," Granger pointed out, ignoring his demands. "How do I know that when you find her and your son, you won't just take him and leave her to die?"

"_Tempting_, Granger," Draco snarled, "but unfortunately, not really an option. You see, quite a lot of Death Eaters are after my blood right now."

"So?" Granger raised an eyebrow.

"Use your head, Granger. So leaving Weasley in a spot of trouble wouldn't go over well with _your_ lot, would it?"

"And you don't want to alienate _us_, is that it, Malfoy?" Granger stared at him, not quite glaring, but certainly her look was one of disapproval. "If you don't have your Death Eater pals for protection, than you want to stay on _our_ good side, is that it?" She shook her head. "So, as usual, it's all about yourself."

"What do my motives matter, Granger?" Draco asked harshly. Her words rang in his mind, conflicting with the words of a different witch—_It was pretty decent of you_—Draco shook his head, driving those thoughts from his mind.

For several long moments, Granger seemed to consider him. Finally, she said, "The records for the emergency Portkeys are in this office." She jerked her head back, indicating a door behind her. "If there's nothing on that Portkey to the hospital in Paris, then Ginny probably took it."

"How do you know?" Draco demanded, slightly taken aback by her sudden change in tack.

"We have to access them all the time, of course." She turned, taking out her wand to use on the locked door. "As Aurors."

Draco stepped up behind her, his eyes narrowing as she performed a complicated bit of spell work to unlock the door. Strange, that she wanted to help him all of a sudden, but then, he supposed, it wasn't really _him_ she wanted to help, it was her pal the she-weasel.

"All right." Granger stepped inside the little office and immediately went for a file cabinet. Draco followed slowly, watching as she pulled out a few records and began flipping through them. She paused to shoot Draco a glare. "By all means, don't help."

Draco scowled. "You seem to be doing bloody fine on your _own_, thanks." He didn't like her helping him. It wasn't natural, and it made him feel uncomfortable. But then, his son was on the line. He couldn't really be choosy about allies.

"Well, it's right here, anyway." Granger pulled out a sheet of parchment and scanned it quickly. "There's no record of any Portkey to that hospital being used in the two days prior to the attack. Any earlier than that and it would have been replaced by now."

"Good. Then I'm going."

"Sure you're up to it?" Granger called after him. "You're looking a bit worse for wear."

"Looked in a mirror yourself lately, Mudblood?" Draco said, turning on her with a sneer.

"I'm just saying—" She cut off with a sigh. "Look, France is dangerous right now. The Death Eaters have a lot of power over there, much like they did here, when Voldemort was in power at the Ministry."

Repressing a flinch at the name of the Dark Lord, Draco retorted, "Well, I don't see what choice I have, Granger. I'm certainly not leaving my son in a country controlled by Death Eaters."

She stared at him pensively. "Do you have a wand?"

Draco shook his head mutely. Without a moment's hesitation, she reached back into her pocket and handed him a wand. _Her_ wand.

Draco snorted mirthlessly, taking the wand from her. "I can't promise you'll get it back," he told her.

"That's all right," Granger murmured, quietly, so quietly that he wasn't sure he heard her correctly. "I won't be needing it."

"What?" His eyes snapped up to meet her gaze. "What did you say?"

She shrugged. "It doesn't matter. Go on, then."

Shaking his head, Draco turned to leave. He could feel her eyes on him as he left the little office and headed for the Portkeys, and it unnerved him. She certainly was acting utterly barmy, that was for sure. Still, it was hard to judge these nobles types. You never _could_ tell what they were going to do. "Bloody Gryffindors," he muttered, reaching for a Portkey.

"Malfoy." Draco paused, turning back at his name. Granger looked at him unblinkingly. "You do realize you owe me again? After helping you here."

Draco scowled. "Don't worry, Mudblood. I'll pay you back." He paused, taking in her disheveled appearance one last time. "What _did_ happen to you, Granger?" he demanded.

"Do you really want to know?" she asked tonelessly.

Malfoy shrugged, suddenly feeling uncomfortable.

Granger eyed him a moment longer. Then, "Fine. I'll tell you."

***

Ginny was roughly shaken awake late in the night, and she opened her eyes to find a frantic Gabrielle bending over her. "Ginny, Ginny," she whispered, throwing a glance over her shoulder. "You must wake up, 'urry, we must go now."

"Wh-what?" Ginny sat up sleepily, pushing her bedraggled hair out of her face. "Gabrielle, what are you—what's going on?" She snapped to attention suddenly, calling to mind everything that was at stake, here, in this hospital. "Is it Will? Did something happen to him? Or the Death Eaters, have they—"

Gabrielle cut in with a little moan of panic. "Ginny, please, I will tell you everyzing, but right now, we must go, yes? Zere is no time, zey know 'e is 'ere—"

"They know Will is here?" Ginny practically jumped out of her bed, following a beckoning Gabrielle to the door.

"No, no, Will eez safe," Gabrielle whispered, her tone distracted as she reached for the door handle. "But he will not be, I am theenking, if we don't—"

She went silent with a little gasp, falling back and motioning Ginny to silence. Ginny peered over her shoulder and spotted, through the crack in the door that Gabrielle had left open, the cause of her alarm. Ginny stifled her own panic when she saw Rabastan Lestrange, once again lurking in the corridor outside her room. He was speaking in rapid French with a Healer, a balding man who looked somewhat bewildered at whatever Lestrange was saying to him. After a moment, the Healer took off, but they weren't out of the woods yet. Holding their breath, Gabrielle and Ginny watched as another black-robed man—presumably another Death Eater—approached Lestrange. He was a shorter, squat sort of man, and he had a harried look on his face.

"Any sign of him?" Lestrange demanded.

"No, nothing." The squat Death Eater shook his head. "Damn it all, he just took off as soon as he laid eyes on me! If that's not confirmation of his betrayal—"

"Betrayal aside, we might have _had_ him if you hadn't so recklessly approached him," Lestrange said coldly. "_Find him_. If Greyback gets word of this, and we don't have him, we'll all pay the price."

"What is he doing here, anyway?" the squat man said irritably. "What did he come here for?"

"That's what I intend to find out," Lestrange said grimly. He turned and started off down the corridor with the smaller man, the both of them still talking animatedly. Gabrielle eased the door open bit by bit, watching until they rounded the corner and were out of sight. Then she flung the door open fully.

"Quickly, quickly," she murmured, beckoning Ginny to follow her out into the corridor. "I told you, zey know 'e is 'ere—"

"Who, Gabrielle?" Ginny demanded in a whisper, keeping a lookout behind them as they hurried down the corridor. Her arm still felt on fire, but the obvious urgency of the situation propelled her on anyway. "Did someone come in response to your owl? But why would they come here; I thought you instructed them to meet at your place—"

"'e did not come because of 'ze owl," Gabrielle muttered, peering carefully around the corner before continuing on. "So I 'ope zat someone will, because ozerwise, I do not know 'ow to get you back to England and—'ere!" She stopped suddenly, opening the door to what seemed to be a small, dark supply closet. "Inside, quickly!"

"Gabrielle, what—?" Bewildered, Ginny allowed herself to be ushered inside. "I thought we were going to get Will!"

"_I_ am going to get Will," Gabrielle said. She seemed to be trying to restrain herself from rolling her eyes. "Honestly, ze two of you, both so stubborn—eet will seem suspicious if you go for Will, yes? I can get 'im safely. Besides, ze patients, zey 'ave been confined to zeir rooms. You cannot be seen walking ze 'alls in your patient gown. Draco, 'e is bringing your robes 'ere, yes?"

Ginny's jaw dropped open. She thought she could actually feel the blood draining from her face. "D-_Draco?_ Draco _Malfoy?_"

"I zink so." Gabrielle threw her a quick look. "'e is ze baby's father, yes? At first I was theenking 'e was after Will like ze Death Eaters, but 'e seemed—"

"No, no, he's—he's Will's father—but—Gabrielle, what is _he_ doing here? How did he even know—"

"You will 'ave to ask 'im." Gabrielle glanced out into the corridor. "I must go, zere is no time. Stay 'ere, yes? I will be back, wiz Will."

"Gabrielle, wait, what—" But the door slammed shut as Gabrielle hurried out into the corridor, and Ginny was left alone, in darkness.

Ginny huffed a sigh, resisting the urge to run after Gabrielle. She didn't like being stuck here, unable to do anything, and with no wand to defend herself, for that matter. What's worse, she didn't understand what was happening at all. So Malfoy was here? _Malfoy?_ And apparently he'd come for Will, but how did he even know Will was here? How did he even _know_ about Will? And what were those Death Eaters on about, saying he'd betrayed them? Damn it, she'd only lost a day, and yet everything had, apparently, changed in that day. She'd ended up in this hospital with Malfoy's son, a son Malfoy apparently knew was born, even though he must have been born the very day, or the day before, she ended up in this hospital. _What on earth happened during the attack on the Ministry?_

The door swung open suddenly, and Ginny jumped, whirling around. She didn't hesitate for a second as she swung her arm around to hit the intruder in the face—

"Whoa, what—Weasley! What do you think you're _doing?_"

Ginny swore when her fist was caught in a tight grip, but then she blinked in the darkness, seeing, for the first time, who stood before her. "Malfoy? It _is_ you!"

Malfoy rolled his eyes, his grip still tight on her hand. "Of course it is," he snapped. "Who were you expecting?"

"Well, I _thought_ you were a Death Eater, barging in like that!" Ginny hissed. "Would you let go of me, please?"

Malfoy started, dropping her hand suddenly as though it were one fire. He shut the door behind him, tossing a bundle into Ginny's arms as he did—her clothes, she realized. "Hurry up and get changed, Weasley. And where's that Delacour girl, anyhow? I thought she was getting Will!"

"She is." Now Ginny rolled her eyes as she turned away, hiding herself from him behind a large shelf stacked full of supplies. Her fingers fumbled with the gown's tie at her neck before she managed to get it off. "She brought me here first and—hang on." She froze in the act of buttoning up her jeans. "How did you know we've been calling him Will? Did Gabrielle tell you?"

"What are you talking about, Weasley?" Malfoy sounded irritated. "_You_ told me his name is Will, right after he was born."

"What?" In spite of the dangerous situation, a rush of excitement flooded Ginny at the prospect of finding out what had happened, of finally getting the answers she couldn't remember. "Born where? When?"

"At the Ministry, of course, when the Death Eaters attacked."

Ginny jumped and spun around without thinking, his voice having come from much closer than it did before. He was peering around the shelf at her, though she couldn't make out the expression on his face in the darkness. In only her jeans and her bra, Ginny flushed, but then she realized he probably couldn't see much more than she could. Still, she turned her back on him and pulled on her shirt, hastening to button it up. "Why was he born there?" Ginny asked. "Why was Carina—"

"Damn it, Weasley, you _know_ why, so stop acting like a—"

He broke off, jumping in time with Ginny when the door opened again, much more slowly and quietly this time. Ginny heard Malfoy echo her sigh of relief when Gabrielle poked her head inside before hurrying in, shutting the door behind her. Ginny was even more relieved to see that she had Will in her arms, though in the darkness, she couldn't tell if the baby was silent because he was sleeping or because he'd been Silenced.

Malfoy threw them a sharp look, as though to determine that Gabrielle had truly returned his son safely to him, but when his eyes fell on Will, a sort of tension seemed to go out of him. He relaxed even further when Gabrielle handed the baby to him.

Pulling on her robes over her clothes, Ginny squinted, trying to make out his expression in the darkness. Gabrielle stepped forward, opening her mouth to address them, but Ginny beat her to it. "So are you taking him now, Malfoy? I thought you were giving him up, to keep him safe."

Malfoy rounded on her, and now that her eyes had adjusted a bit, she could make out the impatient scowl on his face. "_You're_ the one who bloody told me I was all he has left now, Weasley! Why are you acting so barmy? More barmy than usual, I mean," he added with a sneer.

Ginny stared at him, her reply forgotten. _All he has left? What does that mean? What happened to…_ Her thoughts trailed off. _No. He can't mean Carina_—

"Ginny 'as lost 'er memory, Draco." Gabrielle imparted this news almost absently as she peered out the door. "She does not remember anyzing."

"What?" Malfoy's eyes widened, his gaze going from Gabrielle to Ginny. "Not _anything?_"

"I remember plenty of things, thank you," Ginny said crossly, stepping out from behind the shelf so that she could peer at Will as well. Surprisingly, she found him awake but not crying. He seemed to find the darkness comfortable. Or perhaps it was being held by Malfoy that he found comfortable. Weird. "I just don't remember that, that day that the Ministry was apparently attacked," she said, glancing up from Will to look at Malfoy.

Malfoy snorted. "Then you missed a lot."

"Apparently," Ginny said dryly. She hesitated then, dropping her eyes from Malfoy's face. "Malfoy, what—what did you mean when you said you were all Will has left?"

She forced her gaze up and found Malfoy watching her with the strangest expression on his face. He almost looked…regretful…for just a moment. But then his eyes grew dark again. "What do you think I meant, Weasley?" He turned away from her. "Do you think I'd be taking Will if Carina were…" He trailed off.

Ginny swallowed. _If Carina were alive. Oh, Merlin, no_. Ginny shut her eyes. She wasn't sure why, but she couldn't help feeling…responsible, almost. A strange surge of guilt rushed through her. Before she had time to think about that, Gabrielle turned to them.

"We should go now," she said breathlessly. "The corridor looks clear."

"Where exactly are we going?" Malfoy demanded, following her as she eased the door open. "And how are we going to get out of here?"

"You and Ginny—and Will, of course—will go to my flat," Gabrielle whispered, motioning for them to follow her. The three of them inched out into the empty corridor. "I 'ave already told Ginny 'ow to get zere. Someone will come for you zere. As for 'ow we will get out of 'ere, well…" She shrugged, throwing Malfoy a dubious glance.

Malfoy swore quietly. "Here, Weasley," he said, rounding on her suddenly. Ginny quickly held out her arms to take Will as he deposited the baby into her arms. Then he pulled out his wand from his robes, glancing around warily. "So basically, we're going to have to fight our way out," he said. His tone indicated that he did not relish the idea. With Will in her arms, Ginny didn't much either.

"'opefully, it will not come much to that," Gabrielle said quietly. "I will try to distract anyone we come up against, so you can get away."

"Gabrielle—" Ginny shook her head as they approached a corner up ahead. "This is too dangerous for you. If they find out you've helped us—"

"They won't," Gabrielle said confidently. "I 'ave gotten by just fine so far, 'aven't I?"

"Yeah, Weasley," Malfoy muttered. "Can't you just accept help when it's offered?"

"Oh, shut it," Ginny snapped at him.

At the corner, Gabrielle stopped short of turning into the much larger corridor. Malfoy peered around behind her and went pale. "Shit," he whispered. "Shit, shit, shit."

Ginny glanced around to see the source of his swearing. At the Healers' station, just on their left, two black-robed men stood, speaking roughly to the young trainee there. One of them was speaking in French and gesturing wildly down the opposite corridor.

Gabrielle licked her lips anxiously. "I theenk zey know ze baby eez gone."

"That's Mulciber," Malfoy said hoarsely. "And my uncle Rodolphus."

Ginny recognized them both; they had both been at the Department of Mysteries in her fourth year. "Rodolphus Lestrange?" she asked. "His brother is here, too."

"I know," Malfoy said grimly. "Let's just hope that doesn't mean my aunt is here as well."

Ginny nodded. She knew which aunt he was referring to.

Just then, one of the lifts clattered into view, and as it opened, a gaggle of Healers and trainees stepped out, heading towards the Healers' station. "Quickly, go," Gabrielle whispered, shoving Malfoy off towards the lift. "I will distract zem."

"Gabrielle—" Ginny began to object, but Malfoy seized her by the arm and pulled her out towards the lift. Wand at the ready in his other hand, he moved them past the crowd of Healers, past the Death Eaters, whose backs were turned to them, and towards the lift that had just opened up. As one last Healer, an older woman, stepped out of the lift, Ginny glanced back over her shoulder and found Mulciber staring after them, squinting through the group of Healers. Before she could look away, his gaze met hers, and his eyes widened. He let out a shout and started forward, pushing through the people.

"Malfoy, they've seen us!" Ginny said urgently. Throwing a quick glance over his shoulder, Malfoy practically threw Ginny and Will into the lift before hurtling in after them. As the lift door began to shut, Mulciber, pushing after them, raised his wand and shouted a curse that came springing towards them. Ginny heard the Healers screaming in alarm, and she found herself close to panic as well. Malfoy, however, was ready for the attack. He raised his own wand and cast a Shield Charm, and Mulciber's curse was deflected off as the lift doors shut before he could reach them.

The lift began its descent. Ginny looked to Malfoy, but he was shaking his head and muttering curses.

"They'll stop the lift," Ginny pointed out. "If they're running things here, they can do that."

"No, really?" Malfoy cut back, taking Will from her arms with no explanation. When she shot him a puzzled glance, he snapped, "You look like you're about to drop him, Weasley. What happened to your arm, anyway?"

Ginny shrugged. "Some curse." She was sure she wouldn't have dropped the baby, but her arm had been protesting with pain at having to hold him. At that moment, Will chose to open his mouth and start howling. Malfoy quickly Silenced him, managing to actually look apologetic as he did so, and then he hefted the baby boy into one arm, still holding his wand in the other. Ginny was about to ask that he give the wand over to her when the lift suddenly clattered to a halt.

"Oh, not _again_," Malfoy muttered. Before Ginny could ask him what he meant, the lift doors opened, and they found themselves on one of the lower floors. Looking surprised but relieved, Malfoy shoved past the three trainee Healers waiting to get inside the lift. Ginny followed, ignoring the trainees' confused glances and whispers.

At first, there didn't appear to be any Death Eaters in sight. Malfoy hurried past the Healers' station, not even slowing as he demanded of a trainee, "The stairs, where are the stairs?"

The trainee looked confused and Malfoy swore softly before speaking to her in French, presumably repeating his question. She answered him hesitantly, and Malfoy wasted no time. Ginny struggled to keep up with his long-legged pace, apparently unhindered by carrying his baby, as they sprinted through the double doors the trainee had pointed to, and down the stairs. They hadn't reached the middle landing when shouts from below alerted them to more trouble. Ginny glanced down: Death Eaters, three of them, running up the stairs towards them.

"Shit!" Malfoy swore. He spun around, shoving Ginny back up the steps with the back of his wand hand. Seeing this, the Death Eaters from below shot curses up at them. Dodging the jets of red and green light, Malfoy ran back through the double doors, pushing past Ginny again, his wand held at the ready. Ginny stumbled to keep up with him; her arm was burning with all the sudden movement.

Out in the open, they sprinted across the Healers' station, towards a similar pair of doors that, with luck, led to more stairs. When they were nearly there, Ginny heard commotion behind them—confused Healers screaming and more curses shouted their way. But Malfoy was relentless. He pushed through the double doors and all but leapt down the stairs. Ginny's newly-healed ribs were aching, her breath coming short, and her head pounding once again; Will's face, she noticed, was twisted in silent cries, but Malfoy kept going, down and down the stairs. His face was alight with sweat, his normally neat and tidy hair askew, and he looked as though he were fighting a limp.

They finally reached the bottom landing without any trouble, but just as Malfoy made as though to move through the double doors, a black-robed figure jumped out from the corner, wand pointed at them. Like all of the rest of the Death Eaters here, she wore no hood or cowl. Ginny recognized her immediately, and her heart plummeted. Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Going somewhere, Draco?" she asked, her face alight with hungry anticipation.

Malfoy backed up a few paces, his face pale. "Get out of the way," he ordered warily, but Ginny thought his hand shook a bit as he raised his wand. Ginny backed up with him, feeling entirely useless without a wand to defend or attack with.

"I don't think so, Draco," Bellatrix replied.

"Get out of my way!" Malfoy roared, his grip tightening on his wand and on his son.

"I must say, Draco, you've certainly become a bit nervier, after three years in prison." Bellatrix advanced on them, her eyes feverish as they looked from Draco, to Ginny, then back to Draco. Ginny repressed a shiver. "Quite a surprise. But then, I rather hoped you would have used that newfound courage to _help_ us—" Her expression darkened "—rather than to turn against us."

"I haven't done any such thing," Malfoy spat.

"You fought against your fellow Death Eaters at the Ministry! Do not lie to me, Draco!"

"I didn't have much choice." Malfoy licked his lips. "Those Death Eaters would never have given me the chance to fight with them!"

"And whose fault is that?" Bellatrix snarled. "You're a failure, Draco. Your whole family is a failure! And the Dark Lord will see that you get what's coming to you once he's returned—"

"That's supposing he _does_ return," Ginny snapped, unable to hold back.

Malfoy hissed at her to be quiet, but Bellatrix turned her gaze on her, a wicked smile on her face. "Aren't you a feisty one?" Her smile widened in a most unpleasant way. "Mark my words, the Dark Lord will return, girl. And all who have defied him will suffer at his hands." She turned back to Malfoy. "Which needn't be you, Draco. Just hand over the boy, and no one will get hurt." Her eyes flashed in Ginny's direction. "Well, almost no one," she purred.

"What do you want with him?" Malfoy asked warily. "He's no one—"

"He's your son," Bellatrix cut in. "Oh, yes, we've discovered your little deception, Draco. And he won't be harmed, so long as you hand him over quietly and just let—"

"Yeah, right." Ginny laughed mirthlessly, taking a reckless step forward. "He won't be harmed? What do you want him for, then? Going to be play at being his mum, are you? Because you _don't_ really strike me as the maternal type."

"Nor do you," Bellatrix sneered. She indicated with her wand, directing Malfoy's attention to Ginny. "Hand the boy over, Draco, or _this_ one will be tortured within an inch of her life. I have wanted to before, haven't I?" she said with relish, her eyes alighting on Ginny. "Yes, you were the same pretty little girl at the Department of Mysteries, weren't you? All those years ago. Of course, I didn't get the chance to play with you back then…to make you scream…"

"You won't get it now either," Ginny said defiantly, ignoring the prickle of alarm going down her spine.

"You think so? I could do it right now, right here. There's nothing stopping me from _killing_ you, if I so please…" She smiled suddenly, an almost triumphant expression on her face, "…just as I saw that Zabini boy killed. It was you he was parading around in Hogsmeade that day, wasn't it?"

Ginny went cold. All the anger and audacity building within her seemed to deflate in an instant. "You…what?" she heard herself say, breathing in sharply.

Malfoy shot her an aggravated look. "Weasley—"

"Of course, it wasn't quite as quick as you probably think," Bellatrix went on, her words like a merciless onslaught. "He didn't die that day in the village. We took him and tortured him for hours. Days, even. He was _begging_ for death by the time we were through with him."

Ginny thought Malfoy was saying something, but his words were distant, unable to pierce through the thick rush of horror and shock washing over her. Blaise. _Blaise_. No, no, they couldn't have done all that…he couldn't be _dead_, he just couldn't be, he had to be out there still…she had to believe that…but…

The reality of it all slammed into her, like a dull knife impaling her through her chest. She shut her eyes, tried to focus, and the present came back to her slowly. Bellatrix was talking, but not to her anymore.

"Don't think I won't do it," she snarled at Malfoy.

"I know you would," Malfoy said coldly, "and I'm telling you, I don't care. I came here for my son—you think a flea-bitten Weasley means anything to me? Do what you want to her."

Ginny gaped at him, still reeling from the shock of Bellatrix's words. Of course, she and Malfoy were hardly friends, but hearing this, after what she'd just been told, was like being doused with cold water.

Bellatrix's twisted smile widened. "Very well, then." Maliciously, she turned her wand on Ginny, foolishly taking her eyes off Malfoy. "_Cruc_-"

"_Stupefy!_" Malfoy bellowed. With a scream cut short, Bellatrix went sprawling back, falling in an unconscious heap at their feet. Malfoy, quite suddenly, shoved Will into Ginny's arms, before turning on his helpless aunt. Ginny didn't think she'd ever seen quite an expression on his face before: he looked furious, but his anger was mingled with desperation and maybe even fear. He swallowed as he trained his wand on the unconscious Bellatrix, his eyes a little wild.

Suddenly, Ginny realized what he was trying to make himself do. "Malfoy, don't." She rushed forward, trying to look him in the eye. "No. Don't do it."

"I have to," Malfoy said, his words coming out from between clenched teeth. He evaded her gaze, his eyes riveted on his fallen aunt. "If I don't kill her—"

"No, Malfoy." Ginny stepped between him and Bellatrix, fighting back a surge of fear as she placed herself in front of his wand. "You don't have to. You _don't._"

Hesitating, Malfoy took his gaze from Bellatrix and looked at Ginny. His wand hand wavered a little.

"Someone else will," Ginny said firmly. " Someone else. But not you."

Malfoy's chin trembled, though with anger or fear or panic, Ginny didn't know. She felt as though she were holding her breath in that moment, but then Malfoy stepped back, dropping his wand.

"Let's get out of here," he said hoarsely.

Ginny nodded and turned, leading him out through the double doors, out of the hospital, and into the black night. As they hurried through the streets of Paris, passing a person here, a person there, Ginny felt as though reality were draining away from her, the shock of hearing what had happened to Blaise muffling up her thoughts and her senses. She was vaguely aware of still holding Will in her arms, vaguely aware of leading Malfoy to Gabrielle's flat, following the directions her sister-in-law had given her.

"This is it." Ginny stopped breathlessly before the door to the small flat Gabrielle had instructed her to. She pushed through the front door and hurried up the winding steps to the third floor, where Gabrielle's flat was. They passed no one on the stairs or in the corridor, for which Ginny was grateful.

Once inside, Malfoy set several incantations over the door to ward it against any intruders. Ginny felt her knees buckling as soon as she reached the small loveseat sofa in the corner of the room, and she let herself collapse into it, setting Will in her lap. She suddenly felt close to tears; she couldn't help it. Now that they were here, now that they were safe, or at least as safe as they were going to be, she felt as though everything was crashing over her—the pain, the exhaustion, the panic. Blaise.

Suddenly, Malfoy was there, looming over her, and he took Will from her, after finally setting his wand aside. She expected him to turn away then, but he didn't. She had the strangest feeling that he was staring at her.

He cleared his throat. "Look, Weasley—about Zabini—"

"Forget it," Ginny cut in. Her voice was hollow to her own ears. "It's not like I really thought he might be alive." She laughed, or tried to. "How could he have been? What would they have kept him alive for?"

"Look, Weasley—"

"He'd betrayed them, as far as they were concerned," she said dully. "You heard her. Parading me around in Hogsmeade. She was right; he was. Because of me, of course. Because I wanted to sneak out there with him that day."

He didn't say anything this time, and Ginny dared to look up at him. Their eyes met, and Ginny was irresistibly reminded of the last time she'd been with him, or at least, the last time she remembered being with him. The last time she'd spoken of Blaise to him. Of course, she'd been pretty delusional that time, and that had led to…

Malfoy swallowed and blinked several times, and for a moment, Ginny thought he was thinking of the exact same thing she was. But then he looked away, a frown coming over his face. "We should sleep in turns," he said, "so one of us can keep guard until your bloody Order pals get here." Hr shrugged, shifting Will in his arms. "Nothing else to do, is there?"

Ginny settled back into the loveseat, her eyes already falling shut of their own accord, exhaustion stealing over her. "No," she murmured sleepily, "nothing."

She didn't dream about pain and violence this time. Instead, she dreamed of warm hands and soft lips on hers. The only problem was, she wasn't sure _whose_ lips they were.

- - - - -


	11. Chapter Ten

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**Chapter Ten**

*******

Little more than an hour after they'd reached Gabrielle Delacour's flat, as Draco was fighting back sleep, his son woke and began to cry. Draco jumped, suddenly alert, and turned to the baby, whom he'd lain in an armchair, atop his discarded robes. "Ah…um—" He picked up his son carefully and patted him on the back a bit. "Don't cry…please—"

"Malfoy?"

Draco turned and found the she-weasel sitting up in the loveseat, her eyes bleary and part of her hair sticking up from the awkward way she'd slept in the small sofa. "He's crying," Draco said immediately. Unthinkingly, he held the baby out, as though offering him to her.

Weasley yawned, looking entirely at ease. "He's probably hungry." She straightened suddenly, her eyes going wide. "Oh, damn, I didn't think about that. We haven't got anything to feed him."

"Yes, we have." Weasley blinked in surprise, and Draco nodded towards the small coffee table in the center of the room, where he'd placed the bottle he'd stowed in his robes. "Gabrielle gave that to me, before we left."

"Oh." Weasley visibly relaxed. "Good, you can feed him, then."

Draco blinked. "Can't you do it?"

She stared at him, smoothing her hair with her hand. "Why?"

"Well, I'd like to get some sleep, too," he said crossly. Will started to cry harder, it seemed. "Since you've gotten _your_ rest—"

"For Merlin's sake, Malfoy," she said, though she came to her feet in exasperation. "He's _your_ son."

"I'm just saying, since it's your turn to be up anyway, you may as well." Draco fought to keep his tone offhand. He would _not_ admit to her that he wasn't quite sure what he was doing, since she'd already made fun of him in that regard earlier. Well, sort of, she had. Even if she couldn't remember doing it. Anyway, it wasn't that he didn't _know_ what he was doing. It probably wasn't that difficult, he realized that. Still, a small part of him was panicking. What if there was some small thing he didn't know about? He didn't want to do something wrong. If only she would—

"Fine." She came forward, holding out her arms. "Hand him over."

Inwardly, Draco sighed with relief as she took Will from him. At her indication, he handed her the bottle, and then surreptitiously kept an eye on her as he sat back in the armchair. He slumped down, as comfortably as he could, but kept his eyes open just a bit, watching as she also seated herself to feed Will. After a few seconds, she glanced up. Draco closed his eyes quickly, but nevertheless, she said, "Malfoy?"

"What?" Only half-feigning irritation, he opened his eyes and glared at her.

She returned the glare with interest. "Go to the kitchen and find me a rag, or a dish towel or something like that," she commanded.

"Why?" he growled.

"So I don't dirty my robes up when I burp him, of course." She rolled her eyes.

Slightly disgruntled by her tone of voice—_She really does think I'm an idiot_—he nevertheless complied. When he returned with a small dish towel, she indicated he place it over her shoulder, which he did.

"Thank you," she said, absently and somewhat…serenely.

Draco eyed her narrowly. Women certainly could become…strange around babies. Strange enough that Ginny Weasley was thanking him without a hint of sarcasm or annoyance. He had noticed this behavior in women on occasion before. Only a few months ago, he'd been visiting some old school friends with Pansy Parkinson, who had gone positively gooey-eyed and sweet-voiced over a friend's newborn. _Pansy Parkinson_, who never had a sweet word to say in her life. And he could recall a couple times, several years ago, when a few of his mother's younger friends had come over to visit, bringing their babies in tow with them. And all of them, every woman present, including his mother—his often cold, or at least, stately mother—had gone all fluttery and smiling, fussing over those babies.

Then he suddenly realized he was thinking of his mother, and he shut those thoughts away. They would lead nowhere good.

He brought himself back to the present, and found Weasley now eyeing him narrowly. "Something you wanted, Malfoy?" she asked, quietly so as not to disturb Will. Ah, but there was that familiar hint of annoyance.

"No," he shot back. Sneering, he turned his back on her and returned to his armchair. "Who's supposed to be coming for us, anyway?" he asked, his eyes beginning to fall shut.

"I don't know. Fleur, maybe? Gabrielle sent the owl to her. But then again, Fleur doesn't often come out on these types of missions. So maybe Bill."

"Who?"

"Bill, my brother. Fleur's husband."

Draco grunted. For a few minutes, everything was silent and still. Draco was just beginning to slip into dreams when he heard, once again, "Malfoy?"

Draco jerked awake suddenly. "Huh? What?" He blinked, focusing on Weasley. She appeared to be done feeding Will, as he was now sleeping peacefully on a blanket of Weasley's robes in the loveseat. Now she was perched on the arm of the sofa, watching him intently.

"What is now, Weasley?" he groused, struggling to sit up straight.

"What…" She hesitated, but when she spoke again, there was a fierce note in her voice. "What happened to Carina? You said I told you Will's name…did I—find her? Carina, I mean."

"Yes." Resigned to the fact that this witch clearly wasn't going to let him get any sleep, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and letting his face fall into his hands. "You found her, already dead. In your brother's office."

"In Ron's office?" Draco glanced up, and found her staring at him with a strange expression on her face. "What was she doing there?"

"Well, buggered if I know, Weasley," he retorted. "No one's left to tell, is there?"

"What do you mean?" she asked sharply.

Too late, Draco realized what he'd said. Realized he'd said too much. Granger's pasty, disheveled face came back to him, her words echoing in his mind, as she told him what had happened. He pushed those thoughts away, as though doing so would keep Weasley from asking questions. _Too late for that_, a snide voice in his head said. _Now you've got to tell her._

"Well…Carina's dead, of course." Draco cleared his throat noisily. "And Davis was there too, you know, Tracey Davis. But apparently she was injured badly, so they haven't got much out of her yet, not about Carina, anyway—"

"What about Ron?" White-faced, Weasley hurtled to her feet, but she stopped short of taking a step, as though afraid to come near Draco. "_What about Ron?_" She took a deep breath, as though to try and calm herself.

"He, erm…" Draco resisted the urge to bite his lip in his hesitation. _How ironic_, that snide voice in his head said, _just after she's found out the truth about Zabini_… He shook his head, clearing his thoughts, before sneaking another glance over at Weasley. "Look, Weasley," he said with a sigh, "I only heard this secondhand from Granger—"

"Heard _what?_" Weasley crossed her arms over her chest, apparently still trying to appear composed. "I'm sure Hermione knew what she was talking about," she added in a sort of strangled tone.

Draco looked away from her. It really shouldn't have bothered him to say this. Maybe if he wasn't looking at her, it wouldn't bother him. "Your brother…he's disappeared. He's missing. No one's seen him since the battle."

Weasley sucked in a sharp breath. "So? I'm sure they've got people looking for him, I'm sure he's just—"

"They're saying he's dead, Weasley."

A thick veil of silence fell over the room. Draco still refused to look at her, to gauge her reaction, and for a moment, he couldn't hear anything but his son's light, peaceful breathing as he slept on, unaware of the turmoil going on around him. Then—

_Whap_. With a startled oath, Draco leapt to his feet as a thrown shoe struck him, _hard_, on the shoulder. He looked over at Weasley with an incredulous expression. "Are you bloody _mad_, Weasley?"

But she already had her other shoe in her hand, poised to aim at him for a second time. Her eyes were a bit wild, controlled only by anger and disbelief. "That's not true—shut _up_, Malfoy—"

"It _is_ true," Draco insisted. Honestly, did she think he was making this up just to torture her? Well, come to think of it, it was the sort of thing he might've done in the past… "I heard it from your bloody Mudblood friend myself, all right—"

"Liar!" Draco yelped and jumped out of the way as the other shoe came sailing his way, thrown with such force that it bounced off the wall behind him.

"Look, would you just—keep a _lid_ on it, weasel! You're going to wake the baby!"

"Why wouldn't they be looking for him?" Weasley demanded, striding forward now, coming around the coffee table to face him head-on. Draco took a wary step back. "Why would—they wouldn't just give up on him like that! It can't be true!"

"It _is_ true, you bloody witch," Draco growled, and he surprised himself by taking a hold of her shoulders roughly. She looked as startled as he was. "They are looking for him, of course they're _looking_ for him, but Davis—they got some information out of Davis, and she said she saw your brother go down, all right—"

"No—"

"She said she saw him hit by a bad curse, Weasley, too bad a curse for him to have gotten up and just walked away. Even if he _is_ alive, it doesn't look good for him. All that will mean is that they took him, and how long do you think he'll last then?" Draco brought himself up short. He'd said this all very quickly, in one breath. He finally paused, waiting for the violent onslaught he expected out of her.

But Weasley only sagged under his white-knuckled grip on her shoulders. She stared at him, her face now so bloodless she might have been a corpse herself. For a moment, he thought he saw tears well in her eyes, but then they were gone, as though she'd pushed them back through sheer force of will.

"He could still be alive," she finally said, that fierce note in her voice again. In spite of her words, he thought there was an air of…defeat, about her. Or at least, a flicker of acceptance.

"I guess." Draco shrugged, releasing his grip and backing away from her.

"How did—" Weasley paused, taking in a shuddering breath and closing her eyes. "How did Hermione…look? When she told you, I mean?"

Draco snorted. " A right mess, of course. Not that that's much of a difference from how she usually looks."

Weasley's eyes flew open, and she rounded on him in fury. "You—"

Draco raised a hand to forestall her attack. "You haven't got any shoes left," he pointed out, but nevertheless, he took a step away from her. And with good reason, it seemed, because she strode forward and punched him solidly in the shoulder. The same shoulder she'd hit with her first shoe. "Owwww," Draco complained, rubbing his shoulder.

"Why are you so—" Her eyes were shining with anger "—so—heartless! Don't you care about anything, Malfoy? Any_one?_"

"Well, I certainly didn't care anything about your brother." Maybe it _was_ a heartless thing to say, tactless and insensitive, but Draco had never considered himself tactful or sensitive. "Maybe you hadn't noticed, but we weren't exactly the best of friends."

She glared at him through baleful eyes. "I can't believe I handed Will over to you," she seethed. "I can't believe I actually gave him over to be raised by such an unfeeling bastard."

Bringing Will into it stung, and Draco had to fight not to visibly recoil from the insult. He wasn't going to let her see how much that bothered him. "Well, he wasn't really yours to give," he said snootily. "And anyhow, you did. You even called me _decent_." He smirked.

"Decent?" Weasley snorted. "Yeah, right." She turned away from him, shaking her head and muttering, "Bastard."

That stung, too. As jarring as it had been to hear her call him 'decent' in the first place, it was just as jarring to hear her deny it, but in a slightly painful way. Still, Draco ignored these feelings. Like everything else that hurt, he packed them away, in a place they would not bother him.

As Weasley settled down on the floor, leaning against the loveseat where Will slept, as the tension seeped from the room, Draco was suddenly reminded of how much everything else hurt. His chest, his torso, burned with a throbbing pain. He knew he probably hadn't been well enough to leave the hospital, considering he'd just woken from a coma. He hadn't seen that he'd had much choice, though. Not where his son was concerned. Still, maybe he shouldn't sleep after all. He wasn't sure he'd be able to wake if he did.

"Oh, just get back to sleep, Weasley," he grumbled, letting out a tired sigh. "I'm not going to, anyway."

She shot him a suspicious glare, but a moment later, she was asleep again, beside Will who, miraculously, had not woken once during their heated exchange.

Draco began to pace around the room in an attempt to keep awake and distracted, though he moved slowly, so as not to aggravate his injuries. He couldn't help but toss a frustrated glance in Weasley's direction now and again. What was it with her, anyway? All he'd done was tell the truth. He hadn't even been mean about it, not really. Normally, he would have dug in mercilessly, made her feel even more terribly than she already did, just so he could be sure he had the upper hand. But with her…for some reason, recently, he could never bring himself to that. Whereas he usually would've looked past a person's feelings, he just couldn't find the—well, the ignorance to do it with her. He was too acutely aware of how she felt, for some reason, and it bothered him.

Draco shrugged uncomfortably, coming to a halt in his pacing. Well. She had saved his son's life, after all. That's all it was; he was grateful, and it would have been beyond heartless to ignore what she'd done for him. That was all. He would've felt the same about anyone else who had taken care to make sure his son wasn't harmed.

He contented himself with these thoughts for the next few hours. He did hope whoever was coming from the bloody Order would show up soon. Gabrielle had only given them that one bottle, so if Will woke up hungry again, they wouldn't have anything to feed to him.

He needn't have worried, it seemed, because help arrived early, a good couple of hours before sunrise, while it was still dark outside. When they began to spin into view, in the middle of the room, Draco snatched up Granger's wand, holding it ready. The two people who Portkeyed into sight, however, were no threat. One of them was clearly a Weasley, a tall man, with a red-haired ponytail, several years older than Draco. And standing with him was—

_Oh no_. Draco grimaced, eyeing his estranged cousin with barely suppressed distaste. Nymphadora. Although she didn't like to go by that name, he recalled, taking in her shockingly violet hair and mismatched appearance.

"Erm—hi," Draco said awkwardly.

They both turned on him with slightly surprised looks, but then, much to Draco's relief, the she-weasel stirred and yawned, coming awake. She started when she spotted the newcomers, coming to her feet quickly. "Bill! Thank Merlin, I'm so glad you're here. And Tonks, you've come too!"

Tonks, that was it. And Bill. The one that was married to Fleur Delacour, apparently? Draco shook his head. Not that it mattered; he'd never be able to keep all the Weasleys straight. And he didn't bloody care what his bloody cousin wanted to call herself. She was married to that werewolf, Draco remembered, to _Lupin_. Great. That's probably why she was here; Lupin had probably sent her himself.

"Hullo, Draco." Draco's suspicions were confirmed when Nymphadora—_Tonks_—strode towards him, a rather neutral expression on her face. "Remus said we might find you here with Ginny. He was hoping so, anyway."

Draco sneered. "Was he? I can't imagine why."

Tonks raised a cool eyebrow. "Because if you weren't, then we hadn't any idea _where_ you'd got to. The Healers at St. Mungo's didn't seem very confident that you could get too far on your own, with your injuries."

"Well, you can tell them I'm bloody _fine_, thanks." Draco threw an impatient glance past her to the Weasleys, who were standing over Will, talking quietly with sober expressions on their faces. "Can we just get _out_ of here? Before the bloody Death Eaters track us down?"

"This Portkey is set to leave in a couple minutes." Apparently, the elder Weasley—Bill, or whatever—had heard him, as he straightened and held up a chipped, dirty teacup. "It's the only way we could figure to get you out undetected. The Floos are being watched here in France, and we can't really Apparate all the way to London, not with him." He indicated the sleeping Will. "Obviously brooms are out of the question, too. So we had this Portkey activated before we came here and brought it with us."

The she-Weasley nodded. "Because they would've detected it, if you activated it here."

"Where are we going, then?" Draco demanded irritably.

"St. Mungo's, of course," Tonks answered, eyeing him skeptically.

"I told you, I'm bloody fine." His injuries protested that statement, but he ignored them with a scowl. "But my son should be looked over, anyway. And Weasley's arm is all burnt up, or something," he added grudgingly.

The elder Weasley turned to his sister in concern, but she shook her head with a small smile. "It's nothing, Bill. I'll be fine."

"We'd better get around the Portkey." Tonks glanced at her watch. "It'll be leaving soon."

They all went to join Bill, who had the Portkey in hand. Weasley lifted the sleeping baby in her arms, but when Draco approached, she looked at him questioningly. Draco shook his head. "You take him," he muttered. As much as his torso was aching, he didn't want to risk dropping Will during the Portkey.

"Everyone got a hold?" Tonks asked, still looking at her watch. It was a tiny Portkey, but there were only four of them. "Ready in three—two—one—"

The telltale jerk at his navel was somehow more sickening than usual, to Draco. But it was all over in a few seconds, and then he found himself blinking in the harsh light of St. Mungo's entrance hall, wavering on his feet as he attempted to regain his balance.

"Thank Merlin," Weasley breathed, glancing around herself as well. "I've never been so happy to be in the hospital in my life. _This_ hospital, I mean."

"Yeah, you are a few days late, aren't you, Weasley?" Draco sneered, though he spoke past a hacking cough that he couldn't suppress. He was still struggling to stand without swaying. "What'd you go to the wrong hospital for, anyway? Can't you _read?_"

A mousy-haired witch, the receptionist in the hall, approached them briskly. "Can I help you?" she asked. Tonks turned to address her, but Draco wasn't listening. He was finding it more and more difficult to focus on what was going on around him.

Weasley turned to him with a frown. "Well, I didn't do it on _purpose_, of course—" She stopped suddenly, giving him a peculiar look. "Malfoy?"

That was all he heard. Unable to stop himself, Draco lurched forward. The last thing he saw was Weasley staring at him with open concern on her face. Then everything went black.

- - - - -

"Yes, luckily—well, lucky for you—we had a few others come in, hit by this same curse." The Healer eyed Ginny's arm critically in her hospital room. "It did take us a couple of days to figure out how to Heal it, but we've got it sorted now. There will probably be some scarring, though. You can take some dittany to help with that, but as it's been several days—"

"It's fine, I don't care," Ginny said absently, throwing a glance at the door. "Is my family here yet?"

"I'll send them in," the Healer promised. "You'll need to stay here for at least twenty-four hours. You'll probably be all right to leave tomorrow morning."

"Fine. Do you know if the man who came in with me is going to be all right?" she asked suddenly. "Draco Malfoy, I mean."

The Healer sighed. "Well, we'll know more in a few hours."

"And the baby? Is he okay?"

"They're still checking him over, but he seems perfectly all right. Now, Miss Weasley, I want you to get some rest, and worry about yourself, please." The Healer fixed her with a stern yet kind look.

Ginny nodded as the Healer left the room. She _was_ awfully tired, but she wanted to talk to her family first. Luckily, they came in not two minutes later.

"Ginny!" Her mother hurried over to her, her eyes deep with concern. "Are you all right? Oh, thank goodness they found you! We were so worried!"

"I'm fine, Mum," she said, as her mother threw her arms around her and gave her a long, tight squeeze. Ginny tried to draw some comfort, some reassurance from her mother's hug, but apprehension was still gnawing away at her, refusing to be comforted into submission. "Really, I am. They're just keeping me here 'til tomorrow morning, for observation, I guess."

"You sure you're all right, Ginny?" her father asked, his expression as worried as her mother's. "The Healer said—but—"

"Yes, Dad, I'm just fine." She tried to smile, but it didn't quite work. "It's just my arm, and they said they can Heal it. I'll be okay. I've had worse," she added wryly.

Though her mother continued to fuss over her, Ginny turned her attention on her brothers. She was startled to see Charlie there among them, with the twins and Bill, and the dread in her gut plummeted even further. Not that it wasn't great to see Charlie, but he should've been in Romania, still. To see him here was not a good sign. The looks on their faces, as though they were trying to evade her eyes, was also not a good sign.

But then Ginny caught Fred's gaze. "All right there, Gin?" he asked, attempting a smile and, like Ginny, not quite managing it.

"I heard about Ron," she said abruptly.

Just like that, the tension in the room changed; somehow it both heightened and eased at the same time. Certainly the anxious look on her mother's face changed. Her father looked…defeated.

Ginny kept looking at Fred, who had a sort of strained look on his face. "We're still looking for him, aren't we? He could still be…" She trailed off, unwilling to finish that sentence.

"He…could be." Fred shrugged uncomfortably. "But, Ginny—"

"Sweetheart, it…" Her mother sat on the edge of her bed, smoothing a strand of hair out of her daughter's face. "It doesn't look good."

"What do you mean?" Ginny looked from her mother, to her father, to her brothers, her stare incredulous. "It doesn't _look_ good? But you're not—you can't give up on him! We can't! They haven't found…I mean, there's no—no b-body," she managed to get out, though her voice was shaking.

"The thing is, Gin—" Bill came forward, looking her straight in the eye, "—Tracey Davis said she saw—"

"I know what she saw," Ginny cut in furiously. "Malfoy told me, all right? But that curse couldn't have killed him, or else they would've found him there, wouldn't they?"

"How does Malfoy know?" George asked, his lip curling. "Did Lupin tell him?"

Ginny waved this away with a dismissive hand. "He said he talked to Hermione. But that's not the point, I'm telling—" She paused, noticing the way everyone flinched, the way the anxiety grew on all their faces, at the mention of Hermione. For the first time, it struck Ginny that she wasn't there. "Where is Hermione, anyway? Malfoy said she looked a mess—"

"Well, of course she did, Gin," Fred said shakily. "Blimey, when could she have talked to Malfoy?"

"We haven't really…seen her either, Ginny." Her mother looked on the verge of tears. "I don't mean to say she's missing, it's just…she's been—distant—"

"So she's given up too?" Ginny said viciously.

"Ginny, we haven't given up, all right?" Charlie suddenly burst in. There was anguish on his face, and Ginny hated to look at it. Charlie's face spoke for what they all were feeling; he'd never bothered to hide his feelings, not for anything. "But he's been missing for—for days, now. Even if the Death Eaters took him—"

"And you know he would never say anything," Fred said hoarsely. "Stupid git won't give them anything they ask—"

"Of course he wouldn't!" Ginny was shocked by his words.

"Well, then—" George suddenly dared to look her in the eye, "—how long do you think he'd last?"

Ginny's mother drew in a shuddering breath, tears suddenly spilling down her cheeks. Her father made a jerky sort of movement, his face white. Charlie turned away, Bill looked grim, and Fred passed a shaking hand over his eyes.

Ginny's lips began to tremble. She was distantly aware that her eyes, too, were filled to the brim, she trembled even more as she fought not to cry. She shot desperate glances at them all, looking at each in turn. Searching for some sign of hope.

She found none. Anger boiled inside of her, warring with despair. Damn it all, damn it, damn it, damn them— "Why were they even after him?" she burst out, only half-aware of what she was saying. "Why did—just because of H-Harry? He doesn't _know_ where Harry is, no one knows where Harry is—"

"Ginny," Bill said gently, trying to cut through her tirade.

"That's what this all comes down to, isn't it?" she went on relentlessly, her grief pouring out of her through these words. "To Harry. It's his fault, all of this is his fault—"

"Ginny." Her mother looked shocked. "Ginny, don't say that—"

"He's the one that left!" Ginny rounded on her mother furiously, now feeling the tears in her eyes spill over, wetting her face. "He left us, he left all of us, left us to—to—" She stopped, gulping for air through her tears. "I mean, where _is_ he? Why isn't he here? Everything's going to pieces, everything's—and he—he's not even—"

Anything else she had to say was swallowed by her tears. Her mother reached out for her, but Ginny shook her off. "Please, I just want—I just want to sleep," she begged off, trying to get her crying under control, trying to stop. "I'm so tired—please…"

Slowly, one by one, they departed, giving her hugs and kisses before they went, all of them wordless. Once they were gone, Ginny collapsed back on her pillows, willing sleep to come. Hoping she wouldn't dream.

She did, though, but it was all hazy; she could make out nothing distinct. She slept for most of the day, until a witch came in with her dinner that evening. She woke to find her mother sitting at her bedside. Molly Weasley threw her daughter a hesitant glance when she sat up, but when she spoke, there was a determined note to her voice. "I can go if you want me to, Ginny, but you shouldn't be alone here."

"No, it's fine, Mum. You can stay." Ginny shoved her hair out of her face. "Please stay."

Her mother nodded. "You should eat, dear. You must be hungry."

She was, Ginny realized, she was starving. She hadn't had a thing to eat in almost twenty-four hours. The food at St. Mungo's wasn't the best, but she gulped it all down in no time. Once she'd finished eating, the silence between them was heavy with everything they weren't saying. Knowing it was only a matter of time before her mother brought up Ron, or even worse, Harry, Ginny cast her mind around for something else to say. "Is Malfoy okay? Do you know?"

Her mother looked startled. "Malfoy…Draco Malfoy?"

"Yes, you know, he was with me." Ginny nodded. "This morning, the Healer said they didn't know if he'd be all right."

"Oh. Well, I'm afraid I don't know, Ginny. I suppose I could ask—"

"What about the baby?" Ginny cut in. "Is he okay? The Healer said so, but—"

"Yes, I did hear about him." Her mother nodded. "He'll be fine, Ginny." She managed a tremulous smile. "You must have done a fine job taking care of him."

Ginny shrugged. "It was mostly the hospital. Anyway, anything I know about babies I learned from you, Mum."

"Yes, well—"

"I hope Malfoy's okay," she found herself saying suddenly. "Poor Will's already lost his mother. He shouldn't have to lose his father, too. Even if his father is a right prat," she added in a mutter.

Her mother gave her a peculiar look. "If you're really that worried, Ginny, I can go and find out what's going on with the Malfoy boy."

"No." Ginny let out a short laugh. "I'm not worried, Mum. Why should I be worried over him?" She settled back in her pillows, trying to drive Draco Malfoy from her mind. "Anyway, we'll hear soon enough, I suppose."

It wasn't until the next morning that Ginny heard anything about Malfoy. The Healer checked her over once she was up in the morning, and pronounced her healthy enough to go home. Her mother helped her get dressed, having brought her a clean change of clothes.

As they left the hospital room to join Charlie and Fred, who were waiting out in the hall, her mother said, "I did check on Draco, sweetheart. It sounds as though his injuries are fairly serious, but he'll live. He may be here a while, though."

"Who cares about Malfoy?" Fred demanded, having caught the last of this news.

Ginny ignored him. "What about Will, then? The baby, I mean. If Malfoy's going to be here in the hospital, he can't go home, can he?"

"I suppose not," her mother admitted. "Unless Draco has someone who can look after the boy for him."

Ginny doubted this. Certainly Malfoy had no family he could trust Will with; the only family he had left was his father, and that was obviously out of the question. Perhaps Carina had some family who could look after him? Ginny realized with a start that she didn't know. Or perhaps Malfoy would enlist one of his friends to look after Will…still, how many of his friends could he really trust?

"Mum," she said suddenly, "could I—do you mind if I, erm, go see him? Before we go?"

"What do you want to see Malfoy for?" Charlie asked, looking startled. Fred was eyeing her suspiciously.

"He _did_ get me out of that hospital in Paris," Ginny pointed out, returning Fred's suspicious look with a cool one of her own. "He got me away from all those Death Eaters."

"Yeah, but it's not like he was really worried about you, is it, Gin?" Fred cut in. "He just wanted his son back—"

"Yes, but still—" Ginny broke off. "Look, I just—I'll just—oh, just give me a minute, will you? Do you know where his room's at, Mum?"

Ten minutes later, Ginny found herself hovering outside of Malfoy's hospital room, standing back and waiting until the trainee Healer had gone; seeing as it wasn't visiting hours, she knew they probably wouldn't have let her in. Once it was clear, she crept inside, shutting the door quietly behind her. "Malfoy?"

He had the room to himself, she noted, the other bed opposite him empty. His eyes were shut, as though he were sleeping. Suddenly rethinking her actions, she turned away. "Er, I'll just come back later then—"

"Huh?" Ginny turned back as Malfoy mumbled and stirred, his eyes opening slowly. "What—Weasley!"

"Erm—hi." Ginny chewed her lip, suddenly wondering what she was doing there. "Er…how are you—" She broke off. _I am not going to exchange pleasantries with Malfoy. This is about Will, is all_. "I heard you'll be here a few more weeks."

"Not bloody likely," Malfoy groused, staring at her through hooded eyes. He really did look awful, Ginny thought, pale and tired. "What are you doing here, Weasley?"

"Well—" Ginny hesitated. "Well, I've just been released, so…"

"Well, congratulations," Malfoy snapped, though his tone lacked some of its usual bite.

Ginny shut her eyes, willing patience. "Look, it's just…if you're going to be here for a while yet, what are you going to do with Will? I mean, he'll just have to stay here, won't he?"

"I won't be here for a while," Malfoy said crossly. "I'll be out in a few days."

Ginny found herself suddenly annoyed at his idiocy. "That's not what the Healers say," she snapped, "and the last time you left before they cleared you, it didn't turn out so well, as you might remember. Anyway, I don't care. I just wondered what would happened to Will."

Malfoy eyed her balefully. After a moment of silence, he said, "I don't know. I guess—I guess he will have to stay here, won't he?" He didn't seem very pleased by that prospect, a glimmer of anxiety in his eyes.

"Well…" Ginny frowned. "Doesn't Carina have any family who could—"

"Only her mother, and I am _not_ handing Will over to her," Malfoy grumbled. "She makes _my_ mother look like a ray of sunshine. My father too, for that matter."

Ginny's eyes widened. "Then she's a—"

"She's not a Death Eater, if that's what you're thinking," Malfoy cut in. "But she's as good as. Her sympathies have always lain in that direction, anyway. The Moon family's always been like that."

"But then—Carina—"

"Well, Carina was always a bit different, I suppose." Malfoy settled back in his pillows and shut his eyes, as though suddenly tired. "Especially after that friend of hers, Brocklehurst or whatever, was killed by Death Eaters seventh year."

Ginny stared, feeling as though she'd been gutted. She hadn't known that. She'd never known. Well, she'd heard about Mandy Brocklehurst, but she hadn't realized that she and Carina…_Merlin, how much else didn't I know about Carina? And I thought we were friends!_

"So she can't be trusted with Will," Malfoy said, pulling her back to the present. He suddenly looked uneasy. "Or, well, any of my friends, I suppose. I mean, even Pansy…she would never willingly…but if the Death Eaters leaned on her, well, she'd do what anybody else would, wouldn't she?"

"Well, I could take him," Ginny heard herself say.

Silence followed her words. Malfoy stared at Ginny as though she were something he'd never seen before, and Ginny found herself wondering what on earth she'd just said. Still, that's what she'd been thinking all along, wasn't it? That's why she'd come here in the first place. She just hadn't realized. Until now.

"_You_, Weasley?" Malfoy finally said, a sneer in place. "I don't think letting a blood traitor raise my son would be any better than—"

"It would only be for a few weeks, Malfoy, I would _not_ be raising him," Ginny shot back, her temper flaring. "Anyway, if you don't want me to, then fine. _I_ don't care. But it's not like _I_ would let some Death Eater lean on me. As if I would ever let a few threats make me hand a baby over to monsters!"

She expected some sneering retort at this, and she didn't want to stick around to hear it, so she turned to go. But she stopped short when Malfoy said, "That's true, isn't it?"

She turned around slowly. "I beg your pardon?"

"You bloody Gryffindors," he muttered, sounding as though he was speaking more to himself than to her. "You'll do bloody anything—for anyone, no matter what…" His voice trailed off.

"Yes, Malfoy," Ginny said coldly. "I would hardly give up an innocent baby just to save my own skin. That's despicable."

His gaze snapped on hers angrily. "I wouldn't either, Weasley! Not Will, I mean, I wouldn't give him over to save myself."

"Malfoy, I wasn't saying you would," she said in exasperation. "I just—"

"So, fine, then. Take him, or whatever. I guess that's all right."

Ginny's gaze snapped up. "Wh-what?" _Did he just agree?_

"I mean…" Malfoy shrugged. "I mean, you've taken care of him so far, haven't you? So…what's a few more weeks. I guess," he added grudgingly.

Ginny folded her arms across her chest. "So you're saying you trust me with him?"

"_Trust_ is a strong word, Weasley. Look, if we're going to do this, let's get on with it already. Go get a Healer or something."

And so, within no time at all, Ginny had baby Will in her arms again, all set to go home with her. She and Malfoy had filed all the paperwork with the hospital, and it was done. Ginny still couldn't quite believe what was happening.

"We'll go run by and let you say goodbye to your dad first, yeah?" she said to Will. "As he _insisted_," she added, rolling her eyes. "Look, I'm not going to lie to you, Will. You've got a bit of a prat for a dad. But he's all you've got, and he _does_ seem rather concerned about you, so I suppose that'll have to be—Hermione!"

Ginny swallowed her shock at running into the frazzle-haired witch. Hermione stood a little further along in the corridor, looking a bit lost. She looked incredibly thinner since Ginny had last seen her. "Hermione, what are you doing here?"

Hermione turned at the sound of Ginny's voice. She looked quite expressionless, but she said, "Tonks told me you'd been found, Ginny. Are you…?"

"I'm fine, I've just been released." Ginny shifted Will to her other arm anxiously. "Hermione, are you okay?"

"Fine," Hermione said distantly. Her eyes suddenly latched on Will. "Is that—"

"Carina's baby." Ginny nodded. "Well, Malfoy and Carina's baby."

"So he did find you lot, then," Hermione said dully. "That's good, I suppose."

"It's just, Malfoy's got to stay in the hospital for a while yet," Ginny explained, "so I'm taking care of him until he gets outs."

"Oh." Hermione nodded. "Yes, because…because he's got no one else, I suppose." She stared distantly over Ginny's shoulder. "No one's left."

"Hermione—"

"Well, I have to go, Ginny, so—"

"Hermione." Ginny reached out with her free hand to place it on Hermione's shoulder. "Hermione, look, you should…erm…come by the Burrow, or something. Mum said they haven't really seen you…and…"

Hermione looked at her, but didn't seem to really see her. "Sure. Of course."

She turned again to leave, and Ginny found herself desperate to say something else before she went. "Look—Hermione…" Hermione paused. "Just—don't give up on him, okay?"

Hermione went very still. Her face, if possible, went even more expressionless, though she paled.

"Don't give up on him, Hermione," Ginny said frantically. "No matter what. Not matter how much times passes. Just…don't."

For a moment, Hermione didn't say anything. Ginny thought she would just go without a word, but then she said, "We don't all have your tenacity, Ginny."

Ginny felt as though she'd been slapped. She knew Hermione hadn't meant it in a cruel way, but her memory bounced back to what Bellatrix Lestrange had told her last night, about Blaise…that he was dead…well and truly dead.

"Well, I'll see you around, Ginny," Hermione said listlessly. "Maybe."

And with that, she was gone.

- - - - -

**Author's Notes:**

These last couple of chapters were a bit angsty, so I hope that didn't bother anyone. The next chapter promises to be a bit lighter.


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Author's Notes: **Well, here is the next monster of a chapter. It's a bit of a strange chapter - it went in a bit of a different direction then I had originally intended - but it's enjoyable, I think.

If you want to stay updated with this fic's progress, or find some cookies for future chapters, feel free to follow my livejournal. My LJ username is littlebit_liz.

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**Chapter Eleven**

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_July, 2003_

"You seem a little glum today."

Ginny glanced up, lifting her chin off her palm to blink at Tracey Davis. "Do I?" She shrugged. "I wouldn't say glum, really. Just…" She trailed off, waving a dismissive hand.

"Hmm." Tracey sat herself opposite Ginny at the kitchen table in the Burrow. "Well, nothing a little retail therapy can't fix. That _is_ why you Flooed me, isn't it?"

"Of course." Ginny smiled, glancing over at baby Will, who was starting to squirm a little in his crib. "Just as soon as Malfoy gets here to pick up Will, we can go. My mum went off shopping this morning," she added with a sigh, "and she said she'd wait for me, but…"

At the mention of her mother, an uneasy expression of guilt stole its way over Tracey's face. Ginny caught on instantly and shook her head vehemently.

"Oh, come on, Trace. My mum—in fact, _no one_—blames you for…for Ron."

"I know." Now Tracey looked glum, which was out of place for the usually breezy Slytherin. "But I _was_ sort of the bearer of bad news. And if I had held those Death Eaters off on my own—"

"You couldn't have," Ginny cut in. "By all accounts, there were far too many for one person to handle."

"Yeah." Tracey shrugged and blew her fringe out of her eyes. "Well. Whatever." She frowned suddenly. "Did you say Malfoy's coming over?"

"Yes, to pick up his son. He was going to be released from St. Mungo's today."

Tracey wrinkled her nose. "You couldn't have warned me?"

Ginny surprised herself by laughing. "But then you wouldn't have come! Anyway, he's just going to pick up Will and be off. I'm sure he doesn't want to stay here any longer than he has to."

"Well, regardless," Tracey said, a touch of her old, careless air returning, "I'm glad you _did_ Floo me. We haven't hung out in ages."

"I know," Ginny admitted. "But then, I haven't really hung out with anyone since…" She paused, thinking back. "Well, since Hogwarts, really. And even then—"

"And even then, how much did we really 'hang out' at Hogwarts." Tracey nodded in understanding. "As much as we could, I suppose. That year was…"

"Bizarre," Ginny finished.

"Something like that." Tracey shuddered, no doubt remembering that horrible year that Voldemort had controlled the country, that Snape and all the other Death Eaters had been in charge at Hogwarts. Even for the Slytherins, it had been no picnic. "It must have been even stranger to go back, for your last year," Tracey went on. "For everything to suddenly just be…back to normal."

Ginny ran a finger around the rim of her mug. "It wasn't exactly…back to normal."

Tracey shot her a quick, knowing look of sympathy, but said nothing. This was what Ginny liked about Tracey, about the few Slytherin friends she'd made, in general. They didn't hover or console or worry. They left her grief to herself, and more often than not, that was all Ginny wanted or needed. Especially when it came to Blaise.

"But, sort of normal." Ginny sighed. She glanced out the window, eyeing the grey, murky sky outside, the light drizzle falling from the clouds. "I suppose I am a bit glum today. It's just one of those days, isn't it."

Tracey surprised her with a wicked grin. "Sure you're not glum because _this_ little one's leaving you?" She stood up and went to bend over Will's crib. "He is awfully cute. At least, he is when I forget that Malfoy is his father."

"I know," Ginny said dryly. "I've already warned him, too. Will, I mean."

"About what?" Tracey laughed.

"That his dad's a right git." Ginny smiled to herself as she flipped through the _Daily Prophet_. "I just thought he should know, is all." Her smile disappeared as her gloomy mood seeped back in. "I suppose I'm a bit sad to see him go. But not really," she hastened to add. "It'll be nice to get back to my life." _Not that I'm really doing anything with my life_, she thought, her eyes alighting on the page she'd been looking for.

"He's starting to get a bit fussy," Tracey noted, reaching down to tickle the baby.

"It's about time for him to be fed."

"Ooh, can I do it, can I do it?" Tracey almost glowed as she lifted Will out of the crib and bounded over to Ginny's side. "Please?" She fluttered her eyelashes winsomely.

Ginny laughed. "Since when are you so maternal?"

"I'm not. But I love babies." Tracey beamed at the little boy. "Who doesn't love babies?"

"Hang on, I'll get the bottle." Shaking her head and smiling ruefully, Ginny got up from the table as Tracey retreated to seat herself in a more comfortable chair with Will. Ginny had just handed the bottle over to her when a great _pop!_ sounded out not five feet from them.

Ginny nearly jumped out of her skin, whirling around. Annoyance rose unbiddingly in her as soon as her eyes fell on the newcomer. "Malfoy! Hasn't anyone ever told you it's rude to just Apparate into someone else's house without invitation?"

Draco Malfoy straightened his robes and glared back at her. "Invitation?" he drawled. "You knew I was coming."

"Yes, but—" Ginny took in a deep breath to calm herself. "Still."

Malfoy ignored her. He looked much better than he had when they'd first returned to St. Mungo's nearly a month ago. He was still a little on the thin side, but there was color in his cheeks, his eyes were bright, and his hair neatly combed. With all the superior air that only he could pull off, he glanced around the Burrow with narrowed eyes. Then his gaze fell upon Tracey with Will, and he practically jumped at her. "What are you doing here, Davis? And with _my_ son?"

Tracey rolled her eyes at him, but Ginny cut in before she could reply. "She's feeding him, in case you hadn't noticed," she said acidly. "So maybe you could be a little more gracious."

Now Malfoy rolled his eyes at her. Silence fell for a moment, and Ginny fidgeted awkwardly. "Erm…tea?" she asked him.

He stared at her incredulously.

"Er—never mind." Ginny shook her head, returning to her place at the table. Tea. _Tea. Am I out of my bloody mind?_

She hadn't yet returned to her paper when Malfoy surprised her by taking the seat beside her. He snatched up a piece of toast from the plate in the center of the table, eyeing her as if expecting her to retaliate. She only raised an eyebrow.

"What?" Malfoy glared. "I didn't get any breakfast."

Now it was Ginny's turn to roll her eyes, as she got up to pour herself another cup of tea. When she came back, she found Malfoy had taken her paper, and was studying the page she'd been looking at. He glanced up when she sat down again.

"Job listings?" He sneered. "Been unemployed since you were fired—what—six months ago, now?"

"Of course not," Ginny snapped. "I've been working at my brothers' shop."

"How profitable."

"It's been fun," Ginny said defensively, unsure why she felt the need to explain herself to him. "Fun and…well—unpredictable."

"I can imagine."

"Anyway, but it doesn't, well—pay that much." Ginny yanked the paper out of his hands and began scanning the job listings again, more to avoid looking at him than anything else. "And I want to save up so I can get my own place."

"What, and leave this charming hovel? Why would you ever want to?"

Ginny resisted the urge to roll up the paper and smack him over the head with it. Instead she settled for a typical glare, before raising her eyes to the ceiling and repeating, "I will not hex him, I will not hex him, I will not hex him—"

"No, but really," Malfoy went on, ignoring her as he swallowed the last of his toast. "I'm surprised you stayed _this_ long."

"Well, I'm the only one left," Ginny said in exasperation. "When I leave, then my mum will be left alone. Well, she'll have my dad, of course, but—"

"Yeah, because clearly all the rest of your brothers had the sense to get out of here while they still could."

"I wouldn't expect _you_ to understand, Malfoy," Ginny shot at him, her tone cruel. "_I_ don't want to do something selfish at the risk of hurting someone else. I'm sure it's something you've never considered."

Malfoy's eyes sparkled with amusement as he countered, "Isn't it selfish of your mum to make you stay at home?"

"She's not making me do anything! She hasn't even said anything, it's just—"

"Well, aren't you on top form today, Draco?" They both glanced up as Tracey came forward, patting a now-dozing Will on the back. "What, no one to trade jibes with you in St. Mungo's?" Malfoy scowled, but Tracey only ignored him and looked to Ginny. "Why do you let him get you all riled up?"

"I don't," Ginny huffed, sitting back and crossing her arms. She was _not_ riled up. She wasn't.

"Well, he's been fed and put to sleep, Malfoy," Tracey said flatly, indicating Will. "So you can go now."

"Gladly, Davis," Malfoy shot back. As he rose to take his son from Tracey, Ginny frowned.

"Are you—I mean, have you—" Ginny hesitated in frustration, pursing her lips. She didn't like to sound like she was offering to help the git, and she _wasn't_, really, but she was concerned about Will. "Have you got everything, Malfoy? For him, I mean," she added, nodding at Will. "I mean, you've been in hospital and he'll need—"

"Pansy took care of all of that a while ago." Malfoy barely seemed to have heard her as he ran a critical eye over his sleeping son, as though to make sure not a hair on his head had been harmed. "I may not be able to trust him with her, but I can trust her to do some shopping for me."

Tracey lifted an eyebrow. "How typical."

"Well…all right, then." Ginny couldn't say why she had such an uneasy feeling pooling in her gut, twisting sort of bitterly, like…disappointment. "Well, bye then."

Malfoy didn't say another word before he was gone, both him and Will vanished into the Floo. Ginny stared after them, trying to shake herself out the funk she seemed to have dropped into. Tracey, however, proved her savior when she turned to her with an expectant air. "So. Shopping?"

"Shopping," Ginny agreed heavily. "I definitely need some retail therapy."

They ended up spending the rest of the day together, as Ginny had nearly forgotten that there was an Order meeting scheduled that evening. So after a long day of enjoying themselves out in London, Ginny and Tracey returned to Grimmauld Place, where Tracey now lived, with her boyfriend-in-hiding, Adrian Pucey.

"How can you stand it here?" Ginny asked as they filed into the back room used for Order meetings. She wrinkled her nose, eyeing the grim décor. "It's so…" She trailed off, waving a hand around to indicate her meaning.

"Yes, it is a bit," Tracey agreed, as they took their seats. "But, well, Adrian likes it loads better than the place he had to hide out. People are always coming through here," she explained, when Ginny threw her a questioning look. "We never lack for company."

"Who would've thought Pucey to be a social butterfly?" Ginny mused.

Tracey grinned. "He's not, really. But you try being utterly solitary for nearly a year, and see how you like it. It's enough to drive anyone batty."

Ginny glanced around the room, her spirits going dark. Ron and Hermione had stayed here, of course, to look after the place as Pucey and Tracey did now. But Ron was gone, and Hermione was as well. She wasn't exactly missing; she'd left a note, but it had said nothing more than that she was going away for a while, and didn't know when she would be back. Ginny wondered if she ever would be.

The meeting commenced once everyone had gathered. There wasn't much anything of interest to Ginny until the topic of the situation over in the Continent was brought up.

"Obviously, this has been a concern ever since we received confirmation of how bad things are over there," Lupin was saying, and here he indicated Ginny, no doubt alluding to her brief time in the hospital in Paris. "Both Gabrielle Delacour and Charlie Weasley have offered to help us gain a foothold over there so we can make some headway and get the Death Eaters to back off. Especially in France, as they seem to be totally in control there."

"But they haven't disposed of the French Minister, have they?" Hestia Jones asked, a worried frown creasing her forehead. "Surely we'd have public word of that."

"No, he is still alive." Kingsley Shacklebolt's deep voice cut through the room. Though _he_ was now Minister of Magic in the U.K., he still attended all the Order meetings he could, though some of them had advised him against it. "But judging from the few missives we have received from him lately, he's been put under the Imperius Curse. The Death Eaters are being even more subtle than they were here when Voldemort took over the Ministry, but they are clearly in charge."

"And the more power they get, the easier it is for them to establish themselves elsewhere," Bill pointed out. "The attack on the Ministry last month was clearly a bid for power here. If the Aurors hadn't finally broken out of their headquarters, there's no telling what might have happened. It could have been Voldemort in power all over again."

"Only without Voldemort," Ginny muttered.

"Which is almost worse," Lupin said, nodding at Ginny. "They have no leader to unite under, and so many of their attempts have been chaos. Which is why it's even more important that we handle this situation in the Continent."

"What's going to be done, then?" Dean Thomas asked.

"As I said, Charlie and Gabrielle Delacour are going to do what they can," Lupin answered. "Make some useful contacts, get people moving to do what they can to fight back, get as much information as they can on the Death Eaters' operation. The problem we have here, however, is that the most useful place for infiltration is the Ministry, and neither Charlie nor Gabrielle have much chance of getting in there. Tonks has volunteered to join in their efforts as well—" Lupin spared his wife a nod, "—to try and get something working with the Aurors over there. But it's still not enough."

"Who can we put in the Ministry, then?" George demanded, nonplussed.

Lupin and Kingsley exchanged a glance. "Well." Lupin cleared his throat, "a few of us have discussed using Draco Malfoy."

Ginny started. She was not the only one; Neville Longbottom nearly jumped at the name. Fred and George stared at Lupin with identical, open expressions of disgusted incredulity. Tracey looked skeptical, shooting a knowing glance at Adrian.

"If you'll forgive me asking, Remus." Now it was Arthur Weasley's turn to clear his throat. Ginny turned to her father as he continued in a mild tone of voice, "What exactly is it that you think Draco Malfoy can do?"

"Forget that," Fred cut in, still with disbelief, "why on earth would that git help us?"

"For a few reasons," Lupin answered Fred briefly.

"Malfoy works in the Department of International Magical Cooperation," Kingsley explained, addressing Ginny's father and the rest of the table, "so he can most naturally exchange with Ministries on the Continent. His position in his department is not exceptionally high-ranking, but I think you would be surprised at the amount of influence he has."

"Not likely," George muttered. "It's not like three years in prison would do much to harm his bank accounts."

Kingsley actually nodded in agreement with this.

"What's more," Lupin picked up, "he is the most…ah, shall we—experienced? In dealing with Death Eaters."

"But that's just it," Ginny interrupted, unable to contain her thoughts on this any longer. She wasn't as opposed to using Malfoy as her brothers seemed to be, but she agreed that it didn't seem likely Malfoy would help them, and even if he did, she, at least, foresaw a few problems with this. "If the Death Eaters weren't after his blood _before_ he got me and Will—his son, I mean—out of the hospital in Paris, then they certainly are now. We ran into Bellatrix Lestrange—as I told you, Remus—and she was rather clear on this."

"It is our hope that Mr. Malfoy can overcome this," Kingsley said smoothly.

"Maybe," Ginny said dubiously.

"So you wouldn't just want him to get in on the Ministry, then?" Adrian Pucey spoke up, a rarity. He usually kept silent at Order meetings, unless called upon. "You'd want him to try and get in with the Death Eaters?"

"That'll never work," Ginny protested. It wouldn't.

"It will have to be up to Draco to see how far he can infiltrate the Ministry," Lupin said.

Ginny opened her mouth to protest again, but stopped herself short when she realized what she was about to say. _It wouldn't be fair to Malfoy to ask him to get back in with the Death Eaters_. She scowled to herself. Who cared about being fair to Malfoy, anyway? Besides, it certainly would be fair turnabout, after what he did fifth year. Even after reasoning this out, Ginny still felt a bit uneasy, for some reason.

"…still don't understand why he'd help us," Neville was saying.

"Well, we intend to send over a small delegation to approach him about it," Lupin said, his tone almost pleasant. "Tonks has agreed to go, and—if she consents—I hope that Ginny will, as well."

"Me?" Ginny yelped. Everyone turned to her with varying gazes of surprise, speculation, and doubt. "Why me?"

Tracey coughed. "You are sort of chummy with him."

"Chummy? Since when?" Ginny blinked, rounding on her friend. "Weren't you _there_ this morning when he came by to pick up his son? We couldn't stop for arguing!"

"Well, everyone argues with Malfoy," Tracey said reasonably. "Even his friends."

"Therein is one of the reasons we'd like you to accompany Tonks, Ginny," Lupin pointed out. "You saved his son's life and brought him to Draco during the attack on the Ministry. You continued to care for the boy in Paris and once you returned, while Draco was in hospital."

"Yes, but—I mean—" Ginny spluttered. "I mean, it's not like he owes me. He sort of saved my life, too."

"Not intentionally," Fred coughed.

"That is arguable," Lupin consented, "but that was not what I meant. He obviously trusts you, Ginny."

For a moment, Ginny only gaped. Then, "Trust is a strong word," she blurted out, before she could stop herself. She cursed herself inwardly when she realized she'd just repeated Malfoy's own words.

"If you truly do not think you will be able to aid us in this, Ginny, then that is up to you, of course," Lupin cut in. "However, I would like to speak to you further about it after we finish up here."

Ginny nodded dumbly. She glanced aside and found Tracey smirking at her. It didn't help to find Pucey wearing an almost-matching smirk. "Bloody Slytherins," she grumbled.

After the meeting ended, most of Ginny's family seemed to want to talk to her before Lupin could, but dreading what they would have to say about her being 'chummy' with Malfoy, Ginny pretended not to notice their gazes and followed Lupin as he beckoned her aside. She sat herself in a chair before him, glancing around sourly as everyone else began to file out of the room.

"If you truly do not want to do this, Ginny," Lupin began, before she could make any more objections, "then of course you don't have to. But choosing not to help us simply because you don't relish the idea of speaking with Draco is not really—"

"Well, no, I don't relish the idea of speaking with him," Ginny admitted, cutting through before Lupin could finish that statement. "But that's not why—I mean, I just don't think he'll listen to me. I think you're overestimating any influence you seem to think I have over him."

"Fair enough." Lupin leaned back, folding his arms over his chest. "I think, however, that you are underestimating the influence you have over him."

Ginny scowled.

"It is safe to say he _does_ trust you. He may deny it—" Lupin held up a hand to forestall Ginny's protestations, "—and perhaps he does not trust you with every aspect of his life. As it is, I think trust is probably something which does not come easily to Draco. But he trusts you, I think, as much as he is capable of. Which is quite a bit more than he trusts anyone else."

Ginny shifted uncomfortably. She wasn't sure how she felt about being one of the only people—if not _the_ only person—that Draco Malfoy trusted.

"Furthermore," Lupin continued, "I think you will find that you _do_ have some influence considering what you have done for him. Yes, he helped you out of the hospital, but as your brother so kindly pointed out, he did not really come for you. I think you will find his motives in helping you escape had to do with fear of incurring our anger."

"Well, I know that," Ginny said impatiently. "But surely, if I tried to claim he owes me something, he would use the incident in Paris as a way of denying that—"

"Perhaps," Lupin conceded. "I don't think so, though. I think you will find that Draco takes being indebted to someone very seriously."

Ginny didn't know why Lupin seemed so sure of this, but she didn't really doubt his assessment either, recalling how Malfoy had taken a Stunning Spell in the chest to avoid being indebted to Hermione. _Stupid prat_, she added to herself. Just to make herself feel better.

"Lastly," Lupin went on, "I think you will find Draco susceptible to helping us for something I just mentioned. With the Death Eaters after his blood, he is not eager to entirely alienate himself from us. I believe he was hoping to remain relatively neutral after he was released from prison. The Death Eaters, as you pointed out, have made it clear that they are not satisfied with this. Which means that, if Draco really does not wish to rejoin them, he will find himself looking to us for help."

"And we're not willing to help if he doesn't give us something in return?"

"That is, essentially, the message I would like you to make clear to him." Lupin shrugged. "Does that bother you?"

"Not really," Ginny said flatly. She knew Lupin didn't really mean it, but it wouldn't have bothered her if he did. Malfoy had it coming, after all.

Almost without realizing it, however, Ginny had agreed to be part of the delegation to Malfoy Manor. Which was how she found herself in an all-too familiar position a couple of evenings later, standing in the entrance hall of the manor—this time with Tonks at her side. Dolefully, she glanced around, taking in the dim lighting, the portraits gazing down at them. For a moment she shut her eyes, trying very hard not to think about the last time she'd been here.

"Are you okay, Ginny?" came Tonks' puzzled voice.

"Fine," Ginny said faintly, opening her eyes. "I'm just very glad you're here. Or else this would be far too much like _déjà vu_."

Tonks shot her a quizzical look, but before she could question these strange words, Draco Malfoy appeared, coming down the hallway toward them. His expression was dark, and when his eyes fell upon his visitors, it only grew darker.

"I'm not interested," he said bluntly. His suspicious gaze lingered on Ginny a second longer before he turned his back on them.

"Hang _on_, Malfoy," Ginny said impatiently.

"Seeing as you're no longer an Auror—unless they've taken you back, _doubtful_—" Ginny scowled, but Malfoy seemed to take this as confirmation, as he nodded "—then the two of you can only be here for one thing. And I'm not interested."

"At least hear us out, Draco," Tonks said, sounding almost bored.

"Yeah," Ginny added, her tone a little more incensed, "you owe me that much."

Malfoy laughed. "I don't owe you anything, weasel. Where would _you_ be without me? Probably still at that hospital—"

"_Probably_, she would be standing right where she is now," Tonks cut in, her tone cool. "Since we had it taken care of, anyway. The only difference is, you wouldn't be making these ridiculous excuses."

"She's right, Malfoy." Ginny stepped forward, coming much closer to Malfoy than she liked. Still, she had to make herself perfectly clear. She _had_ to make him take her seriously. "Don't pretend as though you've done something great for me, because we both know anything you did had nothing to do with me, anyway. What _I've_ done for _you_, on the other hand—"

"Just because your intentions may have been a little more noble than mine doesn't mean you were doing anything for me, either," Malfoy cut in with a snarl. He scowled down at her. "You did what you did for the same reason I did. For Will. Not for me."

Ginny ignored this interruption. "Aside from that," she carried on, her tone icy enough to match the drafty air in the stone hallway, "you should think about the implications of throwing us out of here without listening to what we have to say. Your dear aunt Bella made it _very_ clear where the Death Eaters stand as far as you're concerned, Malfoy. You don't want us looking at you in the same vein."

Malfoy eyed her stonily, his expression carefully controlled. He seemed to be considering what she'd said. Tonks cut in from behind them, before he could think too much. "Look, at least just hear us out, Malfoy. Is that really so much to ask?"

Malfoy sent her a sour look, but a few minutes later, they were comfortably, if somewhat awkwardly, seated in the drawing room. Ginny had opted to take a seat in one of the large armchairs before the marble fireplace, practically fleeing from the sofa on the far side of the room. Tonks took the other armchair and Malfoy remained on his feet, glaring down at them.

"What's this all about, then?" he demanded.

Tonks and Ginny exchanged a glance before Tonks launched into the matter, explaining the problems they were having on the Continent and detailing how they wanted Malfoy to help them. By the time she was finished speaking, Malfoy was gaping at the both of them as though he thought they were quite mad. Ginny really didn't blame him.

"Let me get this straight." Malfoy rubbed a hand over his eyes and shook his head. "You want me to _infiltrate_ the bloody _Death Eaters?_ Are you totally insane? I can't do that! Even if I wanted to," he added nastily.

"It wouldn't necessarily have to go that far," Tonks conceded.

"Too right! It's bloody impossible!"

"I _did_ try to tell them that, Malfoy," Ginny said testily, uneasily breaking into the conversation. "But like Tonks said, all you'd really have to do is make some contacts at the Ministry in France and—"

"Have you forgotten, Weasley?" Malfoy cut in, shooting her a glare that was somewhat marred by the almost-panicked look on his face. "The Death Eaters practically _are_ the bloody Ministry in France. Trying to infiltrate the Ministry would be just as dangerous! How could I possibly do that without the Death Eaters grabbing me?"

"You're resourceful," Tonks said dryly. "Reputedly." Draco scowled at her, but she went on, "I'm sure you could figure something out."

"It's impossible," he insisted.

"Well, so was getting Death Eaters into Hogwarts." Ginny's tone was chilly, but her ire was rising rapidly, anger beginning to bubble inside of her. "But you managed that all right, didn't you?"

Malfoy recoiled as though she'd slapped him. The look he sent her was quite impassive, but she thought something stirred behind his eyes, some emotion desperate to claw its way out. What was it? Guilt? Pain? Anger?

"That doesn't explain," Malfoy finally said, after a lengthy pause, "_why_ I would be bothered to help you lot."

"I thought Ginny made that clear," Tonks said coolly, "or didn't you hear her, earlier?"

"Oh, right," Malfoy sneered. "I owe you, is that it? I owe Weasley here for _babysitting?_ I suppose that's why she's come, is it? And you lot are, what? If the Death Eaters come after me, after _my son_, you're going to let them have me, if I don't help you?"

Before she could stop herself, Ginny was on her feet. She didn't have to shove down any sympathies for Malfoy that might've crept in; she wasn't even thinking about Will at all. She didn't have to feign any of what Lupin had told her to say. Her mind was fixed on one thing, and so when she addressed Malfoy, she meant every word she said.

"Maybe I _wasn't_ clear," Ginny snapped, "so let me make myself so now. You _do_ owe us, Malfoy. Not me, and not for any babysitting. You owe _us_, and not for anything we've done for you. It's for what you've done _to_ us."

Malfoy seemed a little startled by her intensity, but he attempted to glare at her, refusing to back down. "I don't know what you're—"

"You owe us—" Ginny was relentless, her words overflowing with fury, "—for letting Death Eaters into Hogwarts. For all the pain and destruction that caused. You owe us for trying your very best, for making every effort you could, to kill Dumbledore. You may not have done it in the end, but his death _was_ the result of _your_ actions. _You're_ responsible for that, Malfoy, and for every horrible thing that has happened as a result of it."

The glare had gone from Malfoy's face; he looked rather pale now. Ginny thought he would've liked to back away from her, but he seemed rooted to the spot, as though he couldn't stop himself from listening to Ginny if he'd tried.

"And now you _dare_ to think you can just come to us for help whenever you feel like it? Waving your son around in our faces, playing on our sympathies? Don't underestimate us, Malfoy. We may not be as heartless as you, but we haven't forgotten. We _have_ no sympathy for you. So if you want our protection, if you don't want us to turn our backs on you when the Death Eaters start closing in, then you had _better_ get off your arse and help us now. Or we won't be there when you want us to be."

Ginny stopped in a rush, taking in a deep breath of air. She felt hot, hot with rage and pain, but now that she's said her piece, she was strangely empty, all the anger rushing out of her. She was almost dizzy with the sudden void.

She didn't dare look at Tonks, wondering if the other witch would think she'd gone too far, but Tonks was silent. So was Malfoy, for that matter. His face was most definitely pale now, white in the glow of the fireplace. His eyes were still swimming with some barely-suppressed emotion. He'd backed away from Ginny, clutching onto the mantelpiece with one hand, as though her onslaught had been enough to drive him to his knees.

The silence seemed to go on for hours. It was Tonks who finally spoke first. "So there you have it, Malfoy," she said calmly, as though for all the world, Ginny hadn't just unleashed years of bitter anger at Malfoy. "You asked why you should help us; you have your answer. So will you do it, or not?"

Malfoy turned to her, finally managing to summon something like a scowl, though it was a bit shaky. He swallowed, momentarily breaking through his veneer of indifferent malice. "What exactly am I supposed to do with my son, if I go on this venture? I assume this won't be some weekend trip to France."

"You'd probably be gone for several months," Tonks admitted. "But surely there's someone who can look after him for you?"

"Whose looking after him now, anyway?" Ginny muttered.

"A house elf," Malfoy said, sounding distracted, "but I can hardly leave him to them for months on end." He paused, turning an appraising eye on Ginny. "All right," he said abruptly. "You can do it, Weasley."

"What?" Ginny stared at him in shock. "What are you talking about?"

"You can take care of Will while I'm gone," he said, acting as though he hadn't noticed her reaction. "Here, mind you, not in that hovel you call a home. That was all right for a little while, but if it's going to be months, it's got to be here. In the manor."

"_Excuse me?_" Ginny spluttered.

Malfoy ignored her and turned to Tonks, which was shocking in itself, that he chose to address himself to his estranged, half-blood cousin while ignoring Ginny who, while a blood traitor, was a pureblood herself. "If Weasley moves in here for the duration and takes care of my son, then I'll help you lot. Those are my terms."

Tonks didn't even hesitate. "Agreed."

"Hang on," Ginny cut in angrily. "_I_ haven't agreed to anything yet!"

"What exactly is it that you're objecting to, Ginny?" Tonks asked mildly. In spite of her innocent tone, Ginny thought she detected an impish hint in her eyes.

"Well, I can't just—I mean—"

"You _were_ looking for a job, weren't you, weasel?" Malfoy turned on her with a familiar smirk. "Wanted enough gold to save up to rent a flat, wasn't it? Well, if you stay here and take care of Will, I'll pay you enough gold that you'll be able to _buy_ your own bloody house, if you want."

"I hate to agree with Draco here—" Oh yes, Tonks _definitely_ sounded as though she were enjoying herself, "—but he's right, Gin. What's the downside? You'll get paid loads more than you're making at the twins' shop. You'll get free run of Malfoy Manor, without actually having to put up with Malfoy himself—"

"I think I was just insulted," Malfoy muttered.

"I don't _want_ free run of the manor!" Ginny stopped herself short of stamping her foot. "It's—creepy!"

"What's so creepy about it?" Malfoy demanded.

"If you have to ask, then it just shows how creepy you are, Malfoy!"

"Ginny." Tonks sent her a level look. "You know how important this work over on the Continent is. After everything you've just said, are you really going to refuse this because the manor's a bit creepy?"

Ginny bit back a retort. It _was_ a rather creepy place, but then, she'd be paid. Even if she didn't really like taking gold from Malfoy. And she'd be paid to spend more time with Will, and was that really so bad…?

"If I do this—" Ginny sighed, turning to look Malfoy in the eye, "—you really will do everything you can to help the Order?"

"I said so, didn't I?"

Ginny swallowed another sigh. "Oh, go on, then. I'll do it."

***

Less than two weeks later, it was all settled. Malfoy and Tonks, after being thoroughly briefed by Lupin and other key members of the Order, were gone, to do their work in France and the rest of the Continent, along with Gabrielle and Charlie. Ginny herself had been briefed, mostly by Malfoy but with a few tips from her mother thrown in as well, on taking care of Will in the manor. Malfoy was expected to be gone for at least three months, and so it was that Ginny found herself in her new home, quite alone with the exception of a couple of house elves. And Will, of course.

Malfoy had taken off that evening, so the first thing Ginny had got to was feeding Will and putting him to sleep in his nursery. It was a gigantic room, surprisingly bright and open, and filled with all sorts of toys that Will wasn't nearly big enough to play with yet. Ginny wondered whether Malfoy had actually bought all these things, or if they were his old toys.

Her own room was attached to the nursery by a short corridor, and while it was not quite as big as the nursery, it was still larger than any room Ginny had ever stayed in, and that included the dormitories in Gryffindor Tower. The bed was a queen-sized four-poster made from dark ash wood, complete with mountains of pillows, a dark scarlet duvet, and heavy bed curtains. A fireplace, smaller than the one in the drawing room but just as nicely made, occupied the wall on the far side of the room, and the rest were lined with a few bookshelves and very long, ornate dresser. There were a few little jewelry boxes and cabinets on the dresser, but if anyone had ever used them—if Malfoy's mum had ever used them, and Ginny had to wonder—they were completely empty now.

Once Will was asleep in his crib, Ginny set to unpacking her bags. She stuffed her clothes into the dresser's massive drawers, and even once she was done, there were still three empty drawers for her use. Her robes she hung in the walk-in closet, again only using up about a quarter of the space provided.

She glanced around her room once she was done, examining the books, photographs, and decorations lining the shelves. She took her time exploring the extensive bathroom, especially the deep-set tub and the various soaps and salts provided.

When she was done, however, it was only ten o' clock, and Ginny wasn't the least bit sleepy. She wasn't really sure that she'd be able to sleep in that massive bed, knowing she was surrounded by the equally massive, not to mention empty, manor. It was…well, creepy.

Not thirty minutes later, she'd caved. Using the fireplace in her room, she tossed a dash of Floo powder in and contacted Grimmauld Place.

"Ginny?" Tracey Davis's head emerged on the other end, looking slightly confused. "What's up? Oh, wait—" She grinned wickedly, her eyes alighting in delight. "You're at the manor, aren't you? At Malfoy Manor?"

"Yes," Ginny groused, "and I'm already going insane."

Tracey giggled, a very un-Tracey like sound. "Ooh, tell me everything. Is it just ridiculous? Is everything ten times the size it should be? Is it all dark and gothic and eerie?"

"It's actually not nearly as dark and eerie as _your_ place," Ginny sniffed, referring to Grimmauld Place. "But yes, Trace, it's _huge_. I can't stand sitting here in this room, knowing the whole rest of the manor is utterly empty. Well, except for a couple of house elves."

"_A couple of house elves?_ I think most people are considered wealthy to just have one."

"Come and stay with me," Ginny blurted out, before she could stop herself.

Tracey burst out laughing. She fell silent abruptly and stared when Ginny only sent her a pleading look. "Wait, you're serious, aren't you?"

"At least just for one night," Ginny said desperately. "Please, Trace. I can't stand it."

"You want _me_ to go stay at Malfoy Manor?" A wicked gleam entered Tracey's eyes. "Oh, this is just too good! Hang on, I'll be right over!"

"Are you sure Pucey won't mind you leaving him alone there?"

Tracey snorted dismissively. "Oh, he'll be fine on his own for one night."

And so, much to Ginny's relief, within half an hour, she was no longer quite so alone in Malfoy Manor. Asking one of the house elves to keep an eye on the sleeping Will, she met Tracey in the entrance hall. Tracey looked ready to explode as Ginny led her down the hallway.

"This is mad," she whispered, glancing all around her. "Do you know how much Malfoy used to brag and go on about this place when we were in school? Every single one of us was either dying to spend the night here or to trash the place!"

Ginny giggled. "Well, we could trash the place, but the house elves would only clean up after us. And I'd feel badly about giving them extra work."

"True," Tracey sighed. "I guess we'll just have to settle for raiding his liquor cabinet." She grinned.

"Well, feel free to get as smashed as you like," Ginny said dryly. "I, on the other hand, probably shouldn't, as much as I'd like to. I am on baby duty, after all."

"Oh, that's right. Where is the handsome little devil, anyhow?"

"Sleeping, of course." Ginny took a turn off the main hallway, in what she hoped was the right direction to the kitchens. Malfoy had given her a very quick tour of the manor before he left, but Ginny thought she would be surprised if she found her way around the place even by the time he came home. "I asked one of the house elves to keep an eye on him. And my mum taught me this spell—" she lifted her wand, "—so that if he starts crying or is disturbed at all, my wand will let me know."

"Useful, that,' Tracey remarked. "Are you sure you know where you're going?"

Ginny stopped short in the middle of a dark, somewhat narrow corridor. "No." She glanced around, realizing she had no idea where they were. "I mean, I think this is one of the back corridors to the kitchens, but—"

"It is, Weasley. You're just going in the wrong direction."

Both Tracey and Ginny let out simultaneous shrieks and leapt a good foot in the air, clutching at each other as they spun about in the darkness. A tall, thin figure stood just down the corridor, facing them with arms folded over her chest. Tracey regained her speech before Ginny did, letting out a shaky breath.

"What in Merlin's name are you _doing_ here, Parkinson?" she demanded. "And sneaking around, no less!"

Ginny blinked as none other than Pansy Parkinson stepped forward out of the shadows, a nonplussed expression on her face. Ginny didn't think she'd seen Parkinson since she'd graduated at the end of Ginny's horrific sixth year. She was dressed in all black, though in a classy style as opposed to a more ominous one, and she still wore her dark hair the same way she had in school, cut in a short, blunt bob.

"_I_ have a standing invitation," Parkinson said coolly. "The house elves know by now to let me in whenever I want. I can't imagine why on earth _you_ would be here though, Davis."

"_I_ invited her," Ginny spoke up, stepping forward. "Anyhow, Malfoy's not here, Parkinson. Surely he told you he was going to be out of the country?"

"Of course he did," Parkinson said waspishly. "And he told me you were house-sitting for him; otherwise I would be asking what you were doing here too, Weasley. I just thought he wasn't leaving until next week." In spite of her flawless appearance and sneering confidence, there was a note of uncertainty to her voice now. "I must've gotten the dates mixed up.

"Good, well, you can leave then," Tracey dismissed her.

"Not likely." Parkinson raised an eyebrow. "I came for a drink, and I'm not leaving without one. And by the sound of it, you two are looking for the kitchens too, are you not?"

Tracey stared at her dumbly. "Are you proposing we have a drink together?"

"No," Parkinson snapped. "But seeing as you seem to be incredibly _lost_, you two aren't going to get anywhere without me. Now are you coming, or not?"

Still somewhat dumbfounded, Tracey and Ginny followed Parkinson as she headed down the opposite end of the narrow corridor. The three of them walked in silence until they reached the kitchens, where Parkinson immediately began digging into one of the many cabinets lining the walls. Tracey watched her critically, while Ginny ignored them both and contented herself with staring around the room. This kitchen was bigger than her whole house put together, and it was only a single part of the kitchens, from what she understood. _Mad_, Ginny thought, shaking her head. _Who needs this much space?_

"Merlot or Zinfandel?" Parkinson asked, finally emerging from the cabinet with two bottles of wine in her hands.

Tracey eyed her suspiciously. "I thought you were going to take your drink and go."

Parkinson rolled her eyes. "Merlot it is, then. Get us some glasses, Weasley."

Ginny stared at her incredulously.

"From that cabinet, Weasley." Parkinson waved an impatient hand.

Exchanging a glance and a shrug with Tracey, Ginny sighed and turned to get down three wine glasses from the cabinet Parkinson had indicated. "And _you_ can go if you want, Davis," Parkinson said, addressing Tracey, "but I'm staying right here. I told you, _I've_ got a standing invitation, even when Draco isn't here."

"You'd think he could've warned me," Ginny muttered, handing the wine glasses over to Parkinson, who spared her a sneer but otherwise ignored her as she poured out the wine for each of them.

"All right, then." Tracey had suddenly gotten that look in her eye, that wicked gleam that meant she was up to no good. Ginny groaned inwardly. "Stay then, Parkinson. But you have to participate."

Parkinson paused in the act of handing Tracey a glass. "Participate in what?"

"Well." Tracey took the glass from her and smiled slyly. "Your family's been friends with Draco's since you were kids, haven't they? You've got to have loads of embarrassing childhood stories about him. You know, afraid of the dark, running around naked, that sort of thing."

"Hardly." Parkinson rolled her eyes as she handed a second glass to Ginny, who reminded herself this was the only glass she could have. "Our families may have been friends, but it's not like they set up play dates for Draco and I all the time. I'm up in Manchester, after all. It's not exactly close by. So I'd only met him a handful of times before we went to Hogwarts."

"Disappointing," Tracey muttered. Then she brightened, a devilish expression on her face. "But then you must have other embarrassing stories? Just how a good a shag is he, Parkinson?"

Ginny threw up her hands in horror. "I don't want to hear this!"

"Spoilsport," Tracey tossed at her.

"There's nothing to hear," Parkinson said nastily. "You'd have to ask Carina, if she were still alive. Or Daphne, if she hadn't dropped off the face of the earth."

Tracey's jaw dropped open. "_Daphne?_ No! Oh, wait, don't tell me—is _that_ why you two had such a big falling-out sixth year?"

"You always were a nosy little snitch, Davis," Parkinson snapped.

"Well, _was_ it?" Tracey waved the insult aside. "Answer the question, Parkinson."

"It was one reason," Parkinson said dismissively, "though not the only one, and certainly not the biggest one. Anyway, I don't even know for sure that she slept with him. She never did say, and I have no desire to ask him."

"Daphne Greengrass was Parkinson's best friend, you know," Tracey told Ginny, jumping up to seat herself on the edge of the kitchen counter, wine glass in hand. "Or, well, more like her best little sycophant—" Parkinson narrowed her eyes, but Tracey ignored her, "—her little second-in-command. Did everything Parkinson asked, but that didn't mean she wasn't always plotting behind her back." She smirked.

"Nosy," Parkinson muttered, "just like I said." She leaned against the cabinets, swirling her wine glass around.

"Greengrass," Ginny murmured. "She went missing, didn't she?"

"Yes, of course she did, Weasley, where have you been?" Parkinson demanded. "She disappeared just after the battle at Hogsmeade. Just like Blaise."

"Oh." Ginny wasn't sure if that comment was meant to sting or if Parkinson was just being carelessly insensitive. Tracey certainly shot Parkinson a meaningful glare. "I see."

"I bet Daphne _did_ sleep with Draco," Tracey suddenly said, more to fill up the awkward pause, Ginny thought, then anything else. "It would be just like her. Hey, didn't her little sister have, like, the biggest crush on him?"

"Yes," Parkinson said sourly, "but like you said, Davis, that hardly would've stopped Daphne. After all, I was her best friend—" She glanced down into her wine glass, "—and that didn't matter, in the end."

Ginny shook her head. "You bloody Slytherins," she muttered. "I don't think I could've survived in your House."

"You'd be surprised, Weasley." Ginny suddenly found Parkinson turned on her with an appraising, if critical, eye. "I don't really think you're so different from us. Not as much as you'd like to think, anyway."

"What?" Ginny demanded. "That's ridiculous! Er—" She turned to Tracey hastily. "No offense, Trace."

"My point exactly, Weasley." Parkinson cut in before Tracey could respond, tipping her glass to her fellow Slytherin. "You stand there and act all righteous, like you're better than us slimy little Slytherins. But you've managed to surround and involve yourself with quite a number of us."

"That's not—"

"It was you who came recruiting into our House for your little defense group seventh year," Parkinson pointed out, "when most of the rest of your little friends wouldn't have dreamed of it. You fell head over heels for Blaise Zabini, and he was Slytherin to the core, as proven by the fact that he wouldn't officially join your little group. You were quite chummy with Carina before she died—" She leveled a long, red-lacquered nail at Tracey, "—just like you are with Davis here. And now look at you." She raised a hand, gesturing around them. "You're bloody _living_ in Malfoy Manor." Her mouth twisted bitterly over these last words.

"Jealous, Parkinson?" Tracey cut in.

"Merely making a point, Davis."

"Yes, but that—" Ginny scrambled, trying to put her thoughts together into a coherent objection. "That doesn't mean—"

"Oh, relax, Weasley." Parkinson rolled her eyes. "It was a compliment. Now hand over that bottle, would you? I've had a difficult day, certainly not improved by running into _you_ two. I intend to get good and properly smashed."

Tracey grinned at this pronouncement. Somewhat dumbfounded, Ginny handed over the bottle of wine. She wasn't sure what had just happened, but somehow, the atmosphere in the room was a little less hostile, a little more comfortable. And even though she wasn't quite sure why, Ginny felt a little less unsettled in this huge, lonely manor.

- - - - -

**Author's Notes:**

Um, yeah. I don't know where that whole Pansy-Tracey-Ginny thing came from. There was nothing like that in the original version at all. But I like it, so I kept it.

Also, I originally envisioned Carina Moon as a Ravenclaw, but I have since decided to put her in Slytherin House, along with Pansy, Tracey, Daphne, and Millicent Bulstrode. I don't think I ever actually referred to her as a Ravenclaw earlier in the fic, but if you happened to notice that I did, it would be great if you could let me know. Thanks.


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Author's Notes: **This chapter turned out way longer than I expected. So long, in fact, that I considered splitting it into two, but I decided against it. Who doesn't like long chapters, right?

By the way, just wanted to confirm that Ginny has yet to get her memory back from that day in the Ministry. I slipped up a little in the last chapter and had her mention something about remembering how Draco jumped in front of Hermione to take that Stunning Spell, which **Morgan Amanda** was kind enough to point out to me (thanks!). So, yes, she still doesn't remember that day at all. Just thought I should address that since it hasn't really been mentioned lately (though it will be in future chapters).

_______________________________________________________________

**Chapter Twelve**

*******

_December, 2003_

Pansy Parkinson became a frequent visitor in the months that Ginny stayed at Malfoy Manor, and although Ginny wasn't entirely sure why, she found that she really didn't mind the company. Pansy wasn't nearly as unpleasant as she had been in school: she was blunt, still rather snobby, and obviously still caught up in her ridiculous pureblood mania, though more out of habit, Ginny felt, than real conviction. She'd probably realized, Ginny reasoned, like many others had, that total conviction in that area of thought brought Death Eaters recruiting at your door.

In general, Pansy lacked the bullying nature she'd had in school. She wasn't the nicest person on the planet, but she no longer seemed to have any desire for domination or even popularity. And as Pansy had pointed out, Ginny had become rather experienced at dealing with people who were generally rude but, at heart, not bad people. Like Blaise. Like Carina. Even like Tracey, on occasion.

Ginny was a bit _confused_ as to why Pansy Parkinson was so eager to spend so much time at Malfoy Manor when the only occupant was Ginny herself (well, and little William Scorpius Malfoy), but Tracey had mildly and astutely suggested that Pansy was probably rather lonely these days. "After all," Tracey had said, "she's best mates with Draco Malfoy, and now that she isn't all infatuated and disillusioned about him, why would she still spend time with him?"

And Ginny really couldn't argue with that.

Pansy wasn't the only one who visited often, for which Ginny was incredibly grateful, for two reasons: one, even after weeks of living in Malfoy Manor, she still found it a bit unsettling to be entirely alone in the huge place, with only Will and the two house elves, Tasher and Nuly, for company. And two, taking care of a newborn with no outside help was, as Ginny discovered, incredibly exhausting.

The first six weeks were the worst. Ginny was mildly prepared for the complete lack of sleep she would be getting, or at least, she knew to expect it. In the month that she had taken care of Will at the Burrow, she'd had to deal with his waking up every couple of hours at night, usually needing to be fed, but she had not been alone then. She and her mother (who had been surprisingly enthusiastic about taking care of Will—probably because he provided a distraction from time that would otherwise have been spent grieving) had taken turns with him during the night, and even her father had helped out, when work allowed him to. So although her sleeping patterns had been fragmented, she usually had managed enough to function, remain mostly cheerful, and even work a shift here and there at the twins' shop.

But in the manor, left to take care of Will on her own, Ginny thought she would've broken down from exhaustion and stress, if not for the constant stream of visitors, most of whom often stayed the night, seeming to understand her predicament. Her sisters-in-law were wonderful help. Diana came often, and just as often spent the night. When Ginny tried to object, Diana only laughed and said that Fred, George, and her son James needed 'a boys' night.' Fleur came over as well, and Bill usually accompanied her, claiming they needed 'practice,' as Fleur herself was now pregnant; she had made this announcement shortly after the attack on the Ministry. Ginny _had_ objected to this, pointing out that Bill and Fleur should really take advantage of being able to sleep _now_, since they would have to forfeit that once their own baby was born, but they didn't seem to mind.

Her mother spent the night when she could as well, as did Tracey, who claimed she needed to soak up her time in Malfoy Manor as much as she could now, since she would hardly have any opportunities to come by once Malfoy was back. Pansy never spent the night, but she was sometimes a help during the day, watching Will with the house elves while Ginny caught a quick nap. Even Luna Lovegood had happened by a time or two; she and Ginny were still good friends but rarely saw each other, as Luna was often away traveling.

But although, on many nights, she had help with Will, Ginny was still run ragged those first six weeks. She often felt ready to collapse at any given time, and though she was very grateful for help from visitors, she supposed she wasn't very pleasant company for them, because when she wasn't sleeping, she was usually in a rather testy mood, easily irritated and frustrated.

Malfoy had spoken to her through Floo once during this period, but Ginny had been so thoroughly frustrated at being woken during a nap that she had practically been in tears as she snapped at him, and her mood was apparently so foul that Malfoy hadn't even asked her to bring Will down so he could see him.

But gradually, sometime in September, Will began to go longer during the night without waking, and gradually, Ginny had begun to get more sleep on a more regular basis. The visitors now came more to spend time with Ginny as opposed to simply coming to let her get some sleep, which helped her regain a sense of normalcy to her life. Bill and Fleur never came to spend the night again at this point, for which Ginny was glad; Fleur was due sometime in January, so they really _did_ need the sleep, while they could get it.

By the middle of December, Ginny found Will to be much more of a joy in her life, as opposed to being an obstacle, albeit always a worthwhile one, even when that had meant sacrificing her sleep. He'd recently begun sleeping an average of nine hours during the night, though he still woke up rather earlier than Ginny was accustomed to. And taking care of him was still far from easy; he required constant care, of course, and just because _he_ was sleeping a full nine hours didn't mean that Ginny always did.

Still, when Pansy and Tracey both dropped by for a visit, one cold December evening, it was to find a much happier Ginny than the worn out, aggravated one they'd had to deal with three months ago. They found her in the parlor with Will, sitting on the floor with him in her lap. Her eyes were darkly-rimmed and her hair thrown up in a messy bun, red strands sticking out haphazardly, but she looked up cheerfully enough when Tracey came into the room, joining Pansy, who had arrived about a half hour earlier.

"Look," Ginny said in delight, holding a brightly colored rattle in her left hand, just behind Will's head. She shook the rattle a couple times and instantly, Will looked around, thrusting his little hand out to try and grab at the rattle. Ginny laughed.

"Yes, she's been doing that for the past fifteen minutes," Pansy drawled, taking a sip of the wine she'd had Nuly fetch for her. "And yet, it still amuses her. Still sleep-deprived enough that you're off your rocker, Weasley?"

Ginny rolled her eyes at her, but said nothing in response. In spite of her words, Ginny could see that Pansy was fighting back a smile of her own at Will's antics. Tracey, too, seemed pleased to see Will's growing curiosity and movement, and she wasn't quite as reserved in showing it as Pansy was.

"Well, aren't you becoming the inquisitive one?" She immediately tossed her purse onto a chair and dropped to her knees in front of Will, reaching out a hand to the baby. Will immediately ignored the rattle for Tracey's finger, which he took rather possessively. Tracey laughed. "Well, a little curiosity never hurt anyone. Just don't turn out like your dad."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Pansy demanded.

Tracey held out another finger, this time as though in warning. "Don't go sticking your nose in other people's business."

"Hark who's talking," Pansy said dryly.

"And don't call people Mudbl—er—rude names," Ginny added thoughtfully.

When only silence followed her words, both Ginny and Tracey turned to Pansy with expectant glances. Pansy scowled at them before huffing a sigh. "Oh, all right." She looked at Will very seriously. "Don't sleep with your girlfriend's best friend."

"Pansy!" Ginny covered Will's ears with her hands.

Tracey raised an eyebrow. "I thought you didn't know if that had actually happened. And anyway, you weren't exactly his girlfriend."

"Oh, shut it, Davis. And don't be so ridiculous, Weasley. He doesn't know what we're saying, anyhow." Pansy sipped at her wine, a pensive look on her face. Then she snapped her red-nailed fingers suddenly. "Don't use your friends as lackeys. They'll only turn on you, in the end."

"And your dad's not the only one guilty of that," Tracey whispered to the baby.

"I said shut it, Davis."

"Don't go around using your influential daddy as an excuse for everything," Ginny said suddenly. "It only makes you look stupid."

"Don't go bragging about your wealth, either," Tracey added. "It only makes people hate you."

"Don't gel your hair," Pansy piped up. "It's not attractive. Ever."

"Don't be a Death Eater. It's not cool. No need to follow in family traditions."

"Don't lie to your girlfriends, even if you think a lie is better than the truth. It never is."

"Don't be a prat."

"Don't pick on people who aren't as rich as you."

"Don't be jealous of idiots like Potter. They aren't worth it."

"And whatever you do," Tracey said very seriously, "don't gobble up all the sweets you can get your hands on. Your dad used to eat so many in school, I was surprised he didn't ever get fat."

"I have a fast-working metabolism, Davis. And I did _not_ gobble sweets."

Tracey leapt to her feet with a great gasp of shock, Pansy dropped her wineglass with a surprised curse, while Ginny, who did not quite jump in her astonishment, flinched so violently that Will glanced around at her in confusion, babbling all the while.

"_Draco!_" Pansy regained her voice first, blinking at the newcomer as though she could not quite believe he was there. She took out her wand a bit crossly to clean up the mess she'd made on the carpet, but her words were all delight at seeing her old friend. "What are you _doing_ here? When did you get back?"

"Just now, obviously." Though he answered Pansy's question, Malfoy did not quite look at her. As soon as he'd come in the room, his eyes had fallen on Will, his expression one of barely concealed eagerness. He came towards Ginny immediately, his arms twitching as though he were forcibly restraining himself from sticking his arms out greedily.

"But—" Ginny stared at him, not even bothering to get to her feet as he approached; with the shock piled atop a thick layer of weariness, she didn't think her legs would support her right now. "What—how—what are you even _doing_ here? I mean—"

Malfoy tore his gaze from Will long enough to shoot her an exasperated glance, before he bent down to scoop Will up into his arms. "I _live_ here, Weasley. Or have you forgotten?"

"I meant—" Ginny paused, struggling to put her thoughts in order. She passed a hand over her tired eyes. "I meant…why didn't you—I don't know, send word or something? That you were coming back, you prat!"

"I did," Malfoy said absently. He stood up straight now, examining his son from every angle, as though to make sure he was in perfect condition. Ginny thought his hands were shaking a little, but as she was shaking a little herself, she hardly noticed. "I sent you an owl."

"That—that—that was three weeks ago!"

Malfoy, clearly only paying scant attention to her, actually cracked a smile at his son when Will reached out to touch his dad's face, still babbling away. The smile was gone as soon as he spared Ginny another glance. "You seem a little incoherent, Weasley. What's wrong with you?"

Ginny stared at him incredulously, but Pansy actually spoke up for her. "Taking care of a newborn by yourself isn't actually a walk in the park, Draco. They don't allow much for sleep."

"Right." Malfoy didn't sound as though he'd really heard Pansy. Instead, he simply turned away from them, heading out of the room.

"Where do you think you're going, Malfoy?" Tracey demanded irritably.

"Not that it's any of your business, Davis, but my son and I need to have a little chat," Malfoy tossed over his shoulder.

Pansy smirked. "Why, Draco. Are you embarrassed to gush over your son in front of us?"

His only reply, as he disappeared out the door, was, "Malfoys aren't embarrassed of anything." Then he was gone.

Ginny let out a huge breath, falling back to sprawl out and stare at the ceiling. "Did that really just happen?" She tossed her arms over her face, feeling her eyes water from sheer lack of sleep. "Did that git really just walk in here? Is he really back?"

"Unfortunately," Tracey said, her tone sulky.

"You aren't hallucinating, Weasley," Pansy answered.

Ginny let her arms fall to her side, blinking several times. She still couldn't quite believe that he was back, just like that, after months. She wasn't sure if she was relieved; she thought so, but she was too tired to really sort it out. Still, she did feel a slight pang, a twinge of…was it disappointment? Probably just a residue of the shock. She hadn't had time to process this, to think about what happened next in her life. _Well_, she thought, a little hysterically, _I could just sleep for a week. That doesn't sound bad at all._

"Well, if you don't mind, Gin—" Tracey picked up her purse and slung it over her shoulder "—I'll just be going. This place won't be nearly as much fun now that Malfoy's back."

Ginny rolled her head around, a knowing smile lighting her face. "Go ahead, Trace. I'll Floo you later this week, yeah?"

"Sure. Say bye to the kid for me."

Pansy sniffed after her when she left. "He's not really all that bad, you know." Nevertheless, she, too, gathered her things, and with no more than a simple, "I'll see you, Weasley," she left.

Several minutes later, before Ginny could convince herself to get to her feet, Malfoy returned with Will. "He's a lot more mobile than he was when I left," he noted. "By the way, Weasley, you can stay another evening, right?"

Ginny sat up suddenly. "Huh?"

"Theodore Nott's having a dinner party tonight," he said absently, apparently still more concerned with Will than with her. "Pansy owled me about it a few weeks ago. It's kind of important, especially considering what I just—"

"Are you mad?" Suddenly fueled by annoyance, Ginny propelled herself to her feet, gaping at him, wide-eyed. "You just got home, after being gone for _months_, you haven't seen your son since, and you want to go to a _dinner party?_"

Malfoy blinked at her. "Well, I told Pansy I'd go with her, and it's not just a party, Weasley. Not that I'd expect _you_ to understand," he sneered, "but it's sort of important that the people at this party see that I'm back, and that I talk with a few of them, considering where I've been and what I've been doing all this time. So you can stay and look after Will while I'm gone, and—why do look like that?"

Ginny stared at him in consternation. After a moment, she shut her eyes, willing patience and endurance. Willing herself not to hit him while he was still holding Will. Then she surprised herself by saying, "I can stay," in a rather monotone voice. She was just too tired to argue with him.

"Good." He handed Will over to her, then turned away. "I'll have to Floo Pansy, I don't think she remembered that—ow!" He whirled around, rubbing the place on his arm where she'd just hit him with her free hand. "What was that for?" he demanded, glaring.

"Nothing," Ginny snapped. "It just—made me feel better, is all."

***

The dinner party was a rather typical upper society affair, filled with several people that Draco really couldn't stand—including Asteria Greengrass, who never lost the chance to cling to him, as well as Carina Moon's mother, Lillian Moon, and _that_ certainly hadn't been a pleasant encounter—so when Pansy suggested they leave around eleven, he was rather relieved.

"I don't really understand why you wanted to come, so soon after you got home," Pansy remarked, as they collected their coats, "considering you clearly had an awful time."

"It might not have been so awful if you hadn't left me alone with Asteria for so long."

"I told you, I didn't even see her."

Draco shot her a sidelong glare. In spite of her innocent tone of voice, Pansy wore a small smirk on her face. Although she was one of his closest friends, Pansy always did take the opportunity to torture him with Asteria whenever she could. _Probably because of that thing with Daphne sixth year. That was such a long time ago!_ he thought sourly.

"Anyway, that's not really what I meant. You just got home, Draco. Why rush out to this party?"

Draco shrugged, but not because he had no answer. Rather, because it was an answer he couldn't really give her. After all the trouble he had gone through in France, it was essential that he cement those ties he'd made here in Britain, dispelling any talk of him doing work for the Order. But he couldn't tell Pansy that. Even if he could, she would only scoff at him for doing work for the Order in the first place.

But then, she didn't understand. He _needed_ these people. His son needed these people.

"I'm surprised you were so willing to leave early," he said suddenly, to change the subject. "You usually insist on hanging around a party 'til it's in its dregs."

"Well." Pansy sniffed, not quite meeting his gaze as they walked out across the extensive front lawn, aiming for a point beyond the Apparition barriers. "You should really get home, you know. Let Weasley get some sleep, for once."

Draco stared at her. "_You're_ worried about _Weasley?_ I know I asked you to drop in on her from time to time, Pansy, but—"

"Oh, shut up," she snapped. "I'm not saying we're best friends or anything. But speaking as one female for another, the little weasel's exhausted, Draco. I mean, the past couple of months haven't been too bad, but before that…you should have seen her the morning after your son finally slept for five hours straight without waking. Weasley looked ready to cry with relief."

"Well." Draco shifted uncomfortably, trying to ignore the sliver of guilt worming its way through him. It wasn't that he felt badly for Weasley, exactly. He just hated that he'd had to leave his son for the first few months of his life. _She was the one who talked me into going anyway_, he thought with a scowl. "But surely he's sleeping more, now? Don't babies sleep quite a lot, at this point? During the night, I mean."

Pansy shrugged. "Well, yes, I think he's been sleeping for about nine or ten hours now, but that doesn't mean _she_ does. She still gets up to check on him, I think. You did, after all, basically charge her with _protecting_ your son, as well as simply taking care of him."

Now Draco definitely felt a bit guilty, but not for Weasley this time. He shot his friend a quick glance. "Pansy—"

"Don't." She waved a dismissive hand. "I understand, Draco. You needed someone who wouldn't waver, if Death Eaters came looking for your son, making threats. Someone like Weasley, who would do something stupid like give up her life to protect your baby. Not someone who would give in to save their own skin."

"Would you, though?" Draco asked quietly. "I mean, would you really?"

Pansy was silent for several long seconds. "I don't know," she said finally.

Neither of them said anything more until they were beyond the Apparition barriers, where others were Apparating away. "What are you going to do now, Draco?" Pansy asked, turning to face him head-on. She looked uncharacteristically concerned. "With your son, I mean?"

"Who's going to look after him, you mean?" Draco shrugged. "Me, I guess." It wasn't nearly that simple, of course. There were a whole set of problems there that he really just didn't feel like thinking about at the moment.

"He likes Weasley, you know," Pansy said abruptly. Draco jerked his attention back to her, coming out of his troubled thoughts. "Your son, I mean. Well, it only makes sense, I suppose. She's the only constant person that's been in his life, and he's gotten to an age where he can recognize people, you know. He certainly lights up whenever she's around."

Draco frowned at her. "What are you saying?"

"Nothing." Pansy heaved a sigh. "Look, I'm tired, Draco. I'll talk to you tomorrow, all right?" Before he could stop her, she Apparated, leaving him alone on the lawn.

Draco shook his head after she'd gone, muttering to himself about women who couldn't plainly say what they'd meant. Within seconds he, too, Apparated, arriving back home at his manor.

He hadn't realized just how tired he was until he stepped foot into the entrance hall. He glanced around at his home, feeling strangely relieved, as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Weasley may have thought it 'creepy,' but it was his home. It always had been.

As much as he was looking forward to laying his head on his pillow and getting to sleep, Draco made a detour on the way to his part of the manor, taking a right and heading for the nursery instead. Everything was dark and quiet, as it was close to midnight. When he reached the door to the room he'd allotted for Weasley—the only entrance into the nursery—he hesitated, wondering if he should knock. But then, she was probably asleep, in which case he probably shouldn't wake her. Certainly not if Pansy had anything to say about it. Shaking his head at the strange intensity with which Pansy had defended Weasley, he eased the door open quietly, sticking his head inside.

The room was dark, like the rest of the manor, but Draco's eyes had adjusted enough that he could see everything quite clearly. Weasley _was_ asleep, if the small bundle beneath all those covers was any indication; she was wrapped so tightly in the blankets and the duvet that Draco couldn't see much more than a few locks of red hair peeking out. The sight brought back memories of the last time he'd seen her sleeping in his house, unexpected memories, and Draco shoved those thoughts away, swallowing. Pulling his gaze away from her, he moved quietly through the room. He'd nearly reached the corridor leading to the nursery when he heard a murmured "_Lumos_," behind him.

He turned around, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the light emitting from Weasley's wand. She was sitting up, her hair a tangled mess, with her wand in hand, squinting at him. "Oh," she said after a moment, apparently recognizing him. "It's you."

"Who else would it be?" he demanded.

"A Death Eater."

A chill prickled down Draco's spine at the casual tone of her voice. Casual, but deadly serious. No wonder she got up to check on Will all the time.

She frowned in the dim light of her wand, glancing towards the corridor. "Is he—"

"He's fine, Weasley, I'm just looking in on him." He summoned a familiar scowl as he turned away from her. "Go back to sleep."

The nursery was not quite as dark as the rest of the house, as a very small lamp remained lit in the far corner. And even in darkness, the room didn't have quite as murky an air as the rest of the manor. It was an open room, the walls painted a muted yellow. Will's crib sat virtually in the center of the room, and Draco stepped quietly forward to peer into it.

His son slept peacefully, his little chest moving slowly up and down with each breath, one hand relaxed at his side and the other curled in a tiny fist. He had more hair than he'd had when Draco had left four and a half months ago, an impossibly soft, fine mass of dark blond hairs. Draco had just reached a hand down to stroke that little head when a voice behind him spoke in a whisper, "Is he okay?"

Draco flinched slightly in surprise, pulling his hand back as he turned around. Weasley stood just behind him, coming around now to peer into the crib herself. She wore plaid pajama pants and what looked like a ratty little shirt, although this was mostly obscured beneath the blanket she had wrapped around her shoulders. Her hair was still rather bedraggled, and a little damp, as though she had showered just before going to bed.

Draco shivered slightly, though he wasn't really cold; the nursery was equipped with extra heating charms to keep it warm for the baby. Almost without realizing it, he took a small step to the right, creating a little more distance between him and Weasley. "He's fine," he said shortly, also in a whisper. "I told you. You can go back to sleep, Weasley."

The look she sent him was slightly startled. "But you're here now."

He frowned; it took him a moment to get her meaning. "You want to leave? _Now?_ Looking like…that?" He gestured towards her.

She ran a slightly self-conscious hand over her hair, smoothing it somewhat. "Well, I just thought—"

"Oh, just go back to bed, Weasley." He rolled his eyes, realizing that she hadn't _wanted_ to leave, but rather thought he meant to kick her out. _It's almost midnight! I'm not that heartless_. "You can go if you really want to, but it's rather late. Just go back to sleep."

She opened her mouth as though to say something, but then shut it, her expression faintly puzzled. Shooting Will one last glance, she turned and headed out of the room silently. After doing the same, Draco followed her.

"How was your _dinner_ party?" she asked, a snide note to her voice, once they had crossed the corridor and reached her room.

"Honestly, Weasley." Draco rolled his eyes. "After Pansy made such a big deal about you needing sleep—"

"Well, I'm awake now," she said huffily, though she did crawl back into her bed, gathering the thick duvet around her. In the darkness, her hair blended in to the dark crimson cover, only a shade lighter than the duvet itself. "I'm a light sleeper, these days." She sent him a curious glance. "Did she really make a big deal? Pansy, I mean."

Draco shrugged, coming forward to stand at the foot of the bed. "I think she felt sorry for you. As 'one female for another,' or some nonsense like that."

"Weird."

"And for your information," Draco said suddenly, recalling her earlier words and feeling defensive, "that party was important. Going there and talking with a few horrible people really solidified everything I've been doing for the past five months."

This seemed to prick her attention, as she straightened, her eyes suddenly more alert. "What happened, Malfoy?" she asked. Almost unconsciously, it seemed, she scooted forward a little, bringing the duvet with her. "I mean—what did you do?"

Draco shifted under her scrutinizing gaze, resisting the urge to take a step back from the bed. It was really very strange to hear her address him without a hint of hostility, and now she was looking at him so openly, so curiously….He felt strangely exposed, here, in the darkness. He felt fragile, as though he couldn't quite summon the strength to hold all his stray thoughts and emotions in check.

"I can't talk about it," he said, glancing away from her.

"Was it—was it that bad?"

"What?" Draco jerked his head up. "No, that's not—I meant, I can't _talk_ about it. With you, or with…anyone. It's…confidential."

Weasley stared at him. "But—I'm in the Order—"

"And everyone in your bloody Order gets filled in on everyone else's doings?"

"Well—" She clamped her mouth shut, letting out a frustrated sigh. "Can't you tell me anything? Did you…" She hesitated, dropping her eyes to stare at her fingers, as she traced designs in the sheets. "Did you have to…you know…become a Death Eater again?"

It was obvious by her reluctant tone that she felt wary about asking him, either because she was afraid of the answer or because she thought he would react badly to the question. And, unreasonably so, a part of him did, resenting her words for a reason that really had nothing to do with her. "As you were so kind to point out to me five months ago, Weasley," he said acidly, "I don't have to _become_ a Death Eater again. I already am one."

"Malfoy!" This brought her gaze back up, shocked anger blazing in her dark eyes. "You are not. I'd hardly be sitting here talking to you if you were."

He let out a short, bitter laugh. "Sure about that? I have the mark to prove it."

She flinched slightly, her eyes darting towards his left arm and then back again. She was silent for a moment before she spoke, but when she did, she didn't sound the least bit uncertain. "Those marks must be near invisible, with Voldemort gone and so close to dead now," she said, her eyes latched on his as though trying to impart something important to him. "So they mean nothing. It's only what you do that matters."

Draco snorted. "Going to give me another righteous speech now, Weasley?"

"I'm sorry." Draco started in surprise at these words, and even Weasley looked slightly shocked by her own admission. Still, she swallowed and went on, "I'm sorry that I had to…say all that to you. About you being responsible for…everything." She blew out a breath and looked away, staring at the opposite wall. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't mean any of it, but I was sort of angry, you know. Angry, and upset, and just…" She trailed off, ending her words in a shrug.

Draco shifted uncomfortably again. A part of him, the part of him that took great care to control everything that went on inside him, the part that packed every thought, every emotion away in its proper compartment, was ordering him to end the conversation now and leave the room. The walls he'd built between them were harder to see in the darkness, and his defenses were worn down with weariness. The late, or rather, early hour made all the boundaries brittle and unclear. The strands of contempt and loathing between them were at their most tenuous at this time of night, ready to snap in an instant. And he knew he should leave before that happened.

But he didn't. He lifted his arm to grab a hold of the bedpost, leaning comfortably against it. "I know." He cleared his throat when she turned her gaze on him, eyebrow raised. "I mean…Merlin, Weasley, I'm surprised you didn't crack sooner. What with…everything—" He stopped himself short of speaking Blaise's name.

"Well." She shrugged again. "Your son was a rather effective distraction. A little too effective," she added wryly.

"I'm sure he was on his best behavior," Draco said, a touch of defensiveness to his words.

She laughed softly, the sound somehow richer than usual as she strived to keep quiet. "It doesn't matter, Malfoy. All babies are a handful, no matter how well-behaved they are."

"But surely you didn't hate every minute of it," he protested.

"Hate it?" Her eyes were framed with surprise. "I didn't hate any of it. I resented it, sometimes, especially when I wasn't getting any sleep—I resented _you_, mostly—" Her eyes darkened.

"I remember," he said dryly, recalling the first time he'd Flooed home to talk to her.

"—but I never hated it. Anyway, these last couple of months have been rather fun." A hint of a smile played at the corner of her lips. "Seeing him do everything for the first time. It's like he figures out something new everyday. Moving around, looking at people, grabbing things, sitting up, trying to talk…" She shook her head, still smiling.

For a minute, Draco didn't say anything. He couldn't help it, but he was fixated by the look on her face as she spoke about his son, the hint of pride in her smile, the spark of joy in her eyes, the awe in her voice. A sort of wistful streak fluttered through him, but he was not as jealous as he expected. Looking at Weasley now, he almost felt as if he hadn't missed all those moments in his son's life. He almost felt like he could see them, just through the look on her face, as though he were using Legilimency to see into her mind.

"Anyway." Her words, no longer touched by wonder, brought him back to where they were. "I guess that's over now, isn't it?"

Draco looked down at her and suddenly realized how close they were. Still wrapped in blankets, she sat almost at the foot of the bed, and he, still hanging onto the bedpost, had leaned forward, entranced by her talk about his son. He was startled to find her face only inches from his, and going by the glimmer flashing through her eyes, she was too. For a moment, just a moment, the compartments in his memory shifted, and it all came flooding in. For a moment, he was completely transported back to that day, almost a year ago. Her hair spilled across his sofa like a blanket of roses, the vulnerability shining in her eyes…her fingertips pressed hotly against his wrist…the rough, desperate, agonizing intimacy in her kiss…

By the chagrined look in her eyes, here and now, she was thinking of the exact same thing. She licked her lips. "Malfoy…" she whispered.

Almost too late, Draco straightened, pulling away from her, tearing his eyes from hers as though it were painful. He cleared his throat. "You should really get to sleep, Weasley," he said, turning away from her. Resisting the urge to flee completely, he somehow made it out of the room, through the many corridors, and into his own bed.

***

The morning dawned chilly and grey, and Ginny woke slowly, unwilling to wrench herself out of the restful slumber she was still half-entrenched in. After Malfoy had gotten home last night, she'd slept without disturbance, her dreams pleasant but hazy and vague…

_Malfoy_. Startled out of her drowsiness, Ginny sat up suddenly. _Oh, Merlin_. She slapped a hand across her forehead and squeezed her eyes shut. _Did that really happen? We came in here, and we talked, and then…_

In dismay, Ginny slumped back in her pillows, pulling the duvet up to her chin. In the harsh light of the morning, it all seemed so impossible and so ridiculous. She'd told him she was _sorry_, she'd gotten so caught up talking about the baby….It had just been so late, and really, she'd been half-asleep at the time; even though she hadn't quite been able to get back to sleep once Malfoy came in, neither had she really been very alert. So she'd prattled on to him like he was any other person, as though they were actually friends…and then…

And then…what? Ginny blinked. Nothing had happened, not really, and yet, she felt distinctly uncomfortable just thinking about it. Because as much as she tried to bury the inclination, for just a moment, half a second, she had thought…she had _wanted_—

Ginny groaned, pulling the duvet over her head now. At least the last time she'd found herself in an embarrassingly intimate situation with Malfoy at his home, she'd had the excuse of being feverish and delusional, not to mention she'd been able to cling to the excuse that she couldn't remember any of it. For a few days, she had actually wondered if she really _wasn't_ remembering it all correctly, if she hadn't dreamed the whole thing. Malfoy had certainly had no trouble behaving as though nothing had happened when she'd run into him the following week.

But she didn't have any kind of excuse this time, any reason she shouldn't remember last night. Unless exhaustion qualified as a valid excuse and a reason.

_Well, what does it matter? I'm done here, anyway. I don't even have to see him again_. Which was true, of course. They _weren't_ friends; she was only here because he'd paid her to be, so if she left now without even saying goodbye to him, it wouldn't really seem strange. Of course, that would mean leaving without saying goodbye to Will, too, Ginny realized. It was quite late, and yet Will had not awoken her with crying, which meant that Malfoy must have gotten him already.

_Well, maybe it's better this way, anyway_, she said firmly to herself. She didn't want to be involved in some messy goodbye anyway. It would be better to just go, just leave, make a clean break of it. Decided, she reluctantly forced herself up and out of bed—it really was ridiculously drafty in this manor—and got dressed quickly. Luckily, she'd packed away most of her things the night before, after Will had gone to sleep and before she'd gone to bed, so she only had a few last minute things to toss in her bags. Heaving the one over her shoulder, and pulling the other behind her, she stepped out in the dim corridor. All she had to do was remember to grab her coat from the entrance hall on the way out, and then she'd be gone.

Of course, considering her luck with Malfoy the past several months, she should have realized that fate wouldn't let her get away that easily. Not after finding his baby son in the wreckage at the Ministry, not after volunteering to take care of him, not after being forced into living here for five months. She really should have expected it and, if she admitted it to herself, a very tiny, quietly protesting part of her did present a glimmer of foreboding. But she ignored it.

She'd nearly reached the entrance hall when she ran into Tasher on her way out. The house elf dropped her a quick bow as she made to pass by him. "Hullo, Tasher," she said kindly. "Has Malfoy got Will?"

"Yes, Miss," Tasher squeaked, "they are having breakfast in the dining hall. Master Malfoy asked me to give you this." He stuck out his hands, revealing a small envelope.

Ginny frowned, taking the envelope. "What is this?"

"It came by post for you today, Miss."

Ginny's eyes widened as she glanced at the address, which did indeed read 'Ginevra Weasley, Malfoy Manor.' The second thing she noticed was that it was from Gringotts, which explained it; Gringotts, like Hogwarts and a few other places, always seemed to know where one was. Still, it was strange to see her name printed above 'Malfoy Manor.' More than strange, it was unsettling.

Shaking her head, Ginny opened the envelope with one finger and pulled out the folded parchment inside. She scanned it quickly. "They want me to come in and confirm the amount that's been wired into my account," she said aloud, "by Malfoy. Hang on, the enclosed amount—" She pulled another sheaf of parchment from the envelope; this was one much smaller and unfolded. "The enclosed amount of—"

Her eyes widened. _Great Merlin_. She closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them again, as though there might not be so many zeroes at the end of the figure when she looked a second time. But no, she'd seen it correctly. "He can't be serious," she gasped. "This is—this is way too much!"

"Miss?" Tasher asked, looking confused and a little wary.

Clutching the parchment in hand, Ginny whirled on the house elf. "You said Malfoy was in the dining room?"

"Yes, Miss, he is having breakfast—"

Ginny didn't wait to hear anymore. Her hesitance to see Malfoy after last night's discomfiture forgotten, she turned and almost sprinted down the corridor, leaving her bags in the middle of the corridor with Tasher. By the time she reached the dining hall, which was nearly on the opposite corner of the manor, she was breathing heavily, her cheeks warm and several strands of hair hanging in her face. She burst into the dining hall unannounced.

"Merlin's beard, Weasley." Malfoy jumped at her abrupt entrance, though Will, sitting in a high chair, only cooed in delight at her appearance. "You almost gave me a heart attack. What the bloody hell are you—"

"You can't be serious," she cut in, striding forward to wave the envelope in his face. "You can't actually be serious. This is a mistake, right? You accidentally added one too many zeroes. What am I saying," she muttered, blowing a strand of hair out of her face. "You must have added a _few_ too many zeroes."

"What are you on about?" Malfoy frowned, putting his napkin aside. "What is this?" he demanded, snatching the envelope and the parchment away from her. He pushed his chair back and got to his feet as he scanned the letter quickly. "What's the problem?" he asked, glancing up at her.

"Did you see the 'enclosed amount'?" she demanded.

He glanced at the smaller sheaf of parchment. "Yes. And again I ask, what's the problem?"

Ginny felt her eyes widen until she was sure they were bulging out of their sockets. "What's the _problem?_" she shouted. "Malfoy, that's—that—"

"You want more?" He furrowed his brow.

Ginny felt suddenly lightheaded. "No, I don't want _more!_ Malfoy, that's way too much! You can't pay me that much for babysitting your son for—for—for four months!"

"More like five," he murmured, sounding distracted.

"I mean, I know you said you'd pay me enough gold to be able to buy my own house," she went on, her voice beginning to sound a little hysterical to her ears, "but this—I mean, this is—I could buy three houses with that amount of money, Malfoy!"

"Not if you want a decent-sized house on a respectable property," Malfoy said dismissively.

"You can't be serious!"

"I don't know why you're making such a big deal out of this." Malfoy actually looked a bit uneasy, rubbing a hand behind his neck. "I mean, considering you didn't even _want_ to stay here and do this in the first place, and considering how horrible the first couple of months supposedly were, as everyone made them out to be—"

"So you're—you're saying there's a pittance in there for—what? Pain and suffering?" Ginny laughed weakly. "Just how much pain and suffering do you think I went through, Malfoy?"

"Well," he said defensively, "there's also the added bonus because you stayed last night, while I was at the dinner party."

"Sweet Merlin," she whispered, staring at him incredulously. "You really—you _are_ serious." Letting out a great breath of disbelief, Ginny collapsed into a chair at the table, her knees buckling. "Malfoy, I can't—I mean—" She swallowed. "I can't take that much money from you."

"Weasley—" Malfoy pinched the bridge of his nose, frustrated. "It's not really that much money."

"Just how rich _are_ you?"

"Anyway, what do you want me to do?" he demanded, waving an arm in annoyance. "Take it back? I'll have to go down to the bank myself and talk to them—"

"Well, they said I have to confirm the amount," she said dubiously, "which I've never actually had to do before, because no one has _ever_ wired that much money into my account. But surely that means I can just, well, not confirm it?"

Malfoy shook his head. "I'll still have to go down there," he grumbled. "Look, can't you just take it and go? I have things to do today."

"Malfoy—" Ginny shook her head. "Look, it was _five months_. Maybe if I'd looked after him for five _years_, then this amount might be acceptable, but…" She trailed off, still shaking her head.

When Malfoy didn't say anything, she glanced up to find him staring at her, a pensive, faraway kind of look in his eyes. "What did you say?" he said slowly.

"I said, maybe if I'd looked after him for five years, then this amount might be acceptable. But it was only a few months, Malfoy. This is really too much."

"Oh." He still seemed distracted, his gaze fixed on a point somewhere over her head. "Right."

He didn't say anything else, and silence fell between them for the next several seconds. Will was looking between them avidly, gurgling incoherently, trying to pick up a spoon on his tray. Ginny spared him a weak smile while she waited for Malfoy to say something else, but he never did. After several moments, she cleared her throat. "What, erm—what _things_ do you have to do today? Are you going into work?" She glanced at Will. "What about—"

"Of course I'm not going into work," he snapped, though his words lacked their usual acidity, as he still seemed distracted by some thought. "I can't go anywhere. Unless you want to stay."

Ginny stared at him. He didn't seem quite aware of what he had just said, and similarly, when Ginny replied a second later, it was like listening to someone else speak from her mouth. "I guess I could."

_This_ finally jerked Malfoy out of his preoccupation, his eyes latching on her with an unsettling attentiveness. "I—are you serious?"

"Well—" Ginny opened her mouth and then shut it again, momentarily flabbergasted. She shrugged, slightly exasperated. "I don't know. Were _you_ serious?"

"I mean—" Malfoy scowled, scrubbing a hand through his hair. If Ginny didn't know any better, she would've thought he was flustered. "Well, look. If I want to keep my job, I'll have to find _someone_ to look after him."

"That stands to reason."

"And I don't actually _need_ the job," Malfoy went on, beginning to pace now. "Not for the money, anyway. But considering everything I've been _doing_ the last five months, it's sort of necessary for me to keep that job. If I can—keep doing what I've been doing, I mean."

Ginny shrugged, not fully understanding his meaning—as she had no idea what he'd been doing the past five months—but she accepted this. "Okay."

"So I'm going to need to hire a nanny."

"A nanny?"

"Or governess, if you prefer," he tossed out. "It is a slightly more dignified term."

"Malfoy—" Ginny rubbed her forehead. "There must be plenty of places you can go to hire a governess."

"Well, of course there are, Weasley," he snapped. "That's not the point, is it? I thought you understood this, Weasley. My son is in danger, all the time. Especially considering the mess your bloody Order's got me embroiled in. So, yes, I could go hire some random woman from some place, but how could I trust her? What if she'd been planted? Or, okay, maybe she wasn't, but what if Death Eaters get to her, lean on her?"

"Don't you think you're being just a bit paranoid?"

"Am I?" Malfoy came to a sudden halt in his pacing, rounding on her. There was a hint of a question in his eyes, but his mouth was set a in a firm, resolute line. "Am I really, Weasley?"

Ginny hesitated. Maybe he was, just a bit, but considering what had already happened—considering his own father had tried to take Will, and considering what was at _stake_—Ginny glanced over at baby Will, taking in his beaming face, his flailing arms. "Well…" Ginny hesitated. "But then, what are you _saying_, Malfoy?"

He stared at her incredulously, as though she were incredibly thick. "Well, why can't you do it?"

Ginny tore her gaze from Will, her eyes landing on Malfoy abruptly. "You really _are_ serious," she said, disbelief plain in her tone. She felt stunned, as though she'd been bowled over and hadn't quite regained full use of her senses yet, as though this conversation were not quite real.

"He knows you." Malfoy gestured vaguely over in Will's direction. "He likes you. And I know—" He paused, swallowing visibly. "I know that he'll be…okay with you. So, I mean—" He shrugged. "It's the easiest solution, isn't it?"

Ginny slumped back in her seat. "Seriously."

"Besides, you're the one who said this—" He waved the parchment from Gringotts in the air "—was too much for a few months, but acceptable for a few years."

Ginny choked back a hysterical laugh.

"_And_ you'll just have to find another job now, won't you?" he pressed. "Well, I mean, with what I paid you, you could probably take a break for a while, but—"

"How would this work, exactly?" Ginny found herself asking uncertainly. Sweet Merlin, was she actually considering this? Even as she wondered at this in bewilderment, another small, snide voice in her head countered, _Were you really going to walk away from Will and leave Malfoy to fend for himself? Really?_

Malfoy shrugged. "Well, I guess I wouldn't pay you, exactly, since you seem satisfied with what I've already wired into your account. But then, you'd be provided with food and a place to stay, obviously, and I take care of every expense Will needs, so you'd really just be—"

"You'd—you'd want me to live here? Still?"

"Well, yes." Malfoy frowned at her, as though she were missing something important and obvious. "I mean, I guess—I suppose you don't _have_ to, you could get your own place and—but that seems unnecessary. I mean, even when I'm not at work, I'll often have other things to do. You might have to stay the night sometimes. Anyway, that's just—that's just how it's _done_, isn't it?"

Ginny laughed, though without any real humor or amusement. "I suppose you had a governess when you were a child? Who lived here, with you?"

"Well, of course I did, Weasley. Her name was Natalie, she was French, and she was very nice to me."

Ginny stifled the hysterical laughter bubbling up inside of her at this statement, and instead focused on keeping her expression sober. "Well." She rubbed her eyes with a hand. "Well, I guess—" She hesitated, glancing up at Malfoy before she could finish that statement.

Malfoy had glanced up at the same time, and their eyes locked on each other with an intensity Ginny had not anticipated. They stared at each other. Malfoy's expression was frozen, and she thought he must have been feeling just as she did now, that she could not have looked away from him if she tried. Unbidden, memories of last night welled up, drifting across her mind. _Do I really want to give myself another opportunity like that?_ She swallowed. _Do I really want to put myself in that position again? Risk the danger of something like that happening again?_ Because it would. If she stayed here…

She spoke before she even realized she'd made up her mind. "Okay. I'll do it."

***

Although Malfoy had wanted her simply to stay where she was, Ginny insisted she speak to her family first and begged off officially moving in with him and taking up the position until after Christmas, which was less than a week away. Ginny had intended to break this news to her family immediately, but when she'd gotten home that morning, her mother had been so happy to have her home again that she'd decided it could wait another day. What's more, George had been there with Diana and James, and after hearing him make a few scathing remarks about Malfoy, Ginny had decided that perhaps it would be best to break the news to her parents, and her parents only, first.

But waiting another day had turned into yet another day, and then another, and by Christmas Eve, Ginny had yet to tell her parents anything of her imminent plans to move in with and work for Malfoy. Swearing to herself that this was not simply another excuse, she decided she would not say anything that evening or the next day; on the chance that this would not make her parents happy at all (which was very likely, Ginny thought), she would wait until the end of the day on Christmas. Or maybe even the day after.

Unfortunately, events conspired against her. Due to some last-minute Christmas shopping, Ginny arrived at the Burrow a bit later than she'd anticipated. Coming around the back porch in the hope that she could get the gifts upstairs without anyone seeing them, she entered the kitchen to find Fred and George sitting at the table, alone.

"Hullo!" Ginny said, dropping her bags to the floor to brush her hair back from her face. "I don't suppose either of you could be helpful for once and give me a hand with all this? I, erm—" She peered into her bags. "I don't think there's anything in here for you."

When she was only met with silence, Ginny glanced up in confusion. For the first time, she noticed the grim expression on George's face, the slightly troubled look in Fred's eyes. Ginny blinked.

"Is…is there something wrong?" she asked uncertainly. "Why do you look like that? Where's Mum, anyway? And everyone else, are they in there?" She gestured vaguely into the living room.

Fred jerked his head in a nod. "Ginny," George said seriously, "we need to talk. To you."

Ginny frowned, removing her coat to toss it over the back of a chair. "Erm…okay. What's up?"

"Maybe you should sit, Gin," Fred suggested.

Crossing her arms over her chest in a flat refusal, Ginny demanded, "What's going on? What is this all about, you two?"

"Look, Gin—" George glanced down at his hands, his expression still sober. "We know the past few years have been hard for you. Well, for everyone," he amended. "But…especially for you."

Ginny arched a suspicious eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just, you know." Fred waved a nonchalant hand. "I mean, Harry left, and then…well, then he really left. And then everything that happened with…Zabini…"

Ginny stiffened, both at the fact that one of her brothers was actually mentioning Blaise and because she felt that 'everything that happened with Zabini' was meant to entail more than just his disappearance, his death. As though her relationship with him had in itself been destructive.

"And I know you were sort of…friends…with Carina Moon," George took up. Spreading his hands, he added, "And now that…now that Ron—"

"—is gone," Fred cut in hastily, no doubt taking in the way that Ginny's expression darkened. She wouldn't hear of any of them speaking of Ron as though he were dead. "And Hermione, too."

"Where are you going with all this?" Ginny asked sharply.

"We're worried about you, Gin," George said bluntly. "Worried that you're…looking for…something to fill in the holes. And maybe not looking in very good places."

"Not that there's anything wrong with the people you hang out with, Ginny," Fred said quickly. "We like Davis, after all…and really, it was good of you to fish out some of the more decent Slytherins back in school, and get their help—"

"—but not all of them are decent," George said flatly.

Ginny suppressed a frustrated sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose to try and keep her temper in check. "If one of you doesn't get to the point, _right now_, I swear I will hex it out of—"

"We know you're moving in with Draco Malfoy," George said.

Silence fell. Ginny's eyes flew open, her hand falling to her side. She stared at her brothers rather blankly, even though she knew exactly what they were talking about, even though a part of her was panicking, a rush of guilt blazing through her. George stared back at her boldly, his expression as grim as ever, while Fred bit his lip, glancing from Ginny's face, to his hands, then back to Ginny again.

"What are you talking about?" Ginny finally said, her words coming out slowly. The wheels in her mind were turning frantically, grasping at something to say. _What is there to say? I can't deny it. It's true, and I was planning on telling them anyway._ Still, she hadn't pictured the conversation happening this way, coming about this way. _How did they find out, anyway?_

"Ginny," George said seriously, "look, Zabini was one thing. I mean, yeah, all right, we were all pretty suspicious of him, considering he was—"

"—a right git—" Fred inserted.

"—and he wouldn't pledge any allegiance either way. But at least he, well—" George grimaced. "At least he wasn't a Death Eater."

Ginny threw up her hands to forestall anything else from them. "First of all, Malfoy is _not_ a Death Eater," she said hotly. "He _was_ a Death Eater. His father is a Death Eater. But he isn't, anymore. In fact, last time I checked, he was actually doing some work for our side."

"Only because you threatened him into it," Fred pointed out.

"And, secondly," Ginny went on, ignoring him, "you've got this all wrong!" Indignation flared within her, her cheeks growing hot with anger. "I was _dating_ Zabini. I mean, Blaise. There's nothing like that between me and Malfoy! That's utterly ridiculous."

"Is it, though?" George's serious expression was now tinged with concern. "Ginny, you're pretty quick to come to his defense these days, whenever anyone has a harsh word to say against him. And you've gone about doing him all sorts of favors, taking care of his kid—"

"I was all but forced into it the past few months, George," Ginny shot back. "You know that. It was part of the deal, Malfoy would never have agreed to help us otherwise. Besides, as you just pointed out—" She glared "—there was a baby involved. _That_ has nothing to do with Malfoy, it's common decency!"

"It's just…he did save you, Gin," Fred said hesitantly. "I mean, he didn't, not really, but you seemed to think so—"

"No, I don't! I know perfectly well that wasn't about me at all—"

"—and now—" Fred shrugged. "Well, now this."

"Yes, now _this_." Ginny put her hands on her hips, in a very good imitation of her mother. "Where did you even hear _this_, anyway? I mean, did it ever occur to you two to _ask_ me about this, before attacking me about it?"

In response, George looked at Fred. Fred opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again and said, rather reluctantly, "Well—I ran into this bloke in the shop yesterday, Kenneth Towler—old friend from Hogwarts, you know—and his brother's girlfriend is Sandra Fawcett, and she works at the Ministry, in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures—anyway, he said she'd gone down to the Department of International Magical Cooperation for lunch the other day, with Ernie Macmillan—her coworker, you know—and Macmillan has an office next to Malfoy's, and, well—he said he'd heard it. From…from Malfoy, I guess." Fred finished all of this very quickly, heaving a deep breath once he was done.

Ginny stared at him for a moment, as though waiting for something else, something more. When Fred only looked back at her, she turned her stare on George, incredulity sweeping through her. "And that's—that's it?" she said, when she found her voice. "You got this information, about me moving in with Malfoy, from—let me see if I get this right—your old friend's brother's girlfriend's coworker who _maybe_ heard it straight from Malfoy, but you're not really sure."

Fred coughed. "Well, when you put it that way—"

"Fine, then," George interrupted. He directed a very level gaze at her. "Deny it then, Ginny. Tell us it's not true."

"Tell us what's not true?"

Ginny looked around in horror; her mother had just come into the kitchen, her hands on her hips. Ginny hastily dropped her own arms, realizing she was mirroring her mother's pose. Even worse, her father came in just behind her. All of them, her parents, the twins, stared at her expectantly, though her parents looked a tad confused as well.

_Just tell them_, Ginny told herself. _Just breathe. You have to tell them_. For a moment, Ginny shut her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she said, "All right, I _am _moving in with Malfoy, but—"

"You're what?" her mother exclaimed. "Moving in with who? Not Draco Malfoy?"

"Ginny, you can't be serious," her father said, his voice low, concerned.

"—but it's not the way it sounds—I mean, it's not like you think!" Ginny rounded on the twins, momentarily avoiding her parents' disbelieving eyes. "It's not what _you_ think. You're making it sound like I'm—like I'm—romantically involved with him, or something—"

"Romantically involved?" To add to the mayhem, Bill stepped into the kitchen, though Ginny wasn't quite as intimidated by his presence as she was with everyone else's. To add to her embarrassment, however, were a very pregnant Fleur and Diana, carrying James, crowding in behind Bill. "Romantically involved with who?"

"No one," Ginny said emphatically.

"Draco Malfoy," Fred supplied unhelpfully.

"I am _not_ romantically involved with him!" Ginny said loudly.

"Why're you moving in with him, then?" George demanded.

"I think that's a fair question," her father said quietly.

Ginny turned to him in consternation, spreading her hands helplessly. "Dad—look, it's just—" She paused, trying to gather herself, to remain composed. "I mean, even though he's back now, he still—he still needs someone to look after Will, you know. Like, as a nanny."

"A nanny?" Fleur echoed.

"Or governess." Ginny waved a dismissive hand. "Supposedly it's a more dignified term."

"And he's hired you?" George asked flatly. "When he could find anyone else—"

"He can't, though, George, don't you understand?" Ginny said, her tone a bit desperate. She _had_ to make them understand, make them see. "As you so helpfully pointed out earlier, he was a Death Eater! And now he's not, and, well, it's no secret they'd really like him _dead_ now, dead or back in the fold, and his son is a perfect way to get to him, so far as they're concerned!"

"But, Ginny," her mother cut in, her eyes almost panicked with concern. She seemed to be pleading with Ginny, which was far worse than if she had shouted. "Ginny, don't you see? That makes this such a dangerous situation, a situation you shouldn't be a part of—"

"Why shouldn't I?" Ginny said furiously, but her anger was directed more at herself than at her mother, or anyone in her family. "Someone's got to, someone should! I mean—" She swallowed. "Carina—this is her baby we're talking about, the baby she ended up with because she was doing work for the Order—"

"Ginny—" Her mother looked stricken.

"—and I was just as enthusiastic as anyone for her to get close to Malfoy, pressuring her to do whatever she could, and now she's dead for it and this little boy's got to take the brunt of it, and we _owe him_, someone owes him—"

"Ginny," her mother interrupted, rushing forward to place her hands on her shoulders. Ginny was so choked with guilt and anger that she didn't even try to pull away. "Ginny, you're not responsible for this, no one is responsible—sometimes things just happen—"

"Mum's right, Gin," Bill said quietly. "If anyone's to blame for any of this, it's Voldemort."

A few people flinched at the name, in the silence that fell after Bill's words. Ginny sagged slightly under her mother's hands, and a part of her desperately wanted to throw herself into her arms, to let her mother soothe her, convince her, make everything okay.

But the time for that to work was past. Drawing herself up firmly, Ginny looked her mother in the eye. "I have to do this," she said, her voice resolute, like steel. "No one else can."

"If Malfoy's so worried about his son, he can get some kind of protection—" George started in.

"No, he can't." Ginny glared. "No, he can't, because who's going to help him? Not any of you, not anyone in the Order, not anyone from the Ministry. No one's going to jump forward to help a Malfoy, even when there _is_ an innocent baby involved!"

"Ginny, that's not—"

"I've made up my mind." Ginny shut her eyes, taking a deep, shaky breath. "I've decided, and nothing you can say will make me go back on that."

"Not even," her father said, his voice as quiet and somber as ever, "if I remind you what his father did to you?"

Ginny flinched violently. She turned to her father, dread and guilt mingling with resentment in her eyes. Resentment, because she couldn't believe he was bringing this up, in front of everyone, and guilt, because she knew he was only trying to look out for her. And dread, because she would have to face him and still insist on this.

"We're talking about Draco Malfoy," she said hoarsely, "not his father."

"Same difference," George growled.

"No, it's not!"

"Even still, Ginny." Her father shook his head, his eyes deeply troubled. "We're talking about the Malfoys. We're talking about you living in that house, with them—"

"With _him_," Ginny clarified. "With one person. Draco. And it's just a house, Dad. There aren't anymore evil diaries stashed away, no Death Eaters lurking in the corners—"

"How can you know that for sure, Ginny?"

"You're the one who raids that house all the time," Ginny said quietly, trying her best to keep this from sounding like an accusation, because it wasn't meant to be, it truly wasn't. "You should know, for sure. Anyway, none of you really had a problem with me staying there while Malfoy was gone, so—so your problem must be with him."

"So what if it is?" Fred demanded. "We don't like him, Gin! We don't trust him! And you didn't used to, either."

Ginny shrugged. She was beginning to feel very weary, very resigned. She knew what she had to do, and if they couldn't accept it….She shuddered away from that thought. "I still don't," she said simply. "This isn't about him."

"Ginny—" Her mother broke in one last time, tears in her eyes.

"Carina was my friend," Ginny said firmly. "And I was hers, though not a very good one. I have to do this. And—" She tried to breathe in, but it was like there was no air, like her lungs weren't working properly, constricting with the pain of leaving them. "And since I can't seem to convince you of that, I suppose I had better just go."

George pushed himself to his feet so hastily that his chair toppled back, and in place of the grim, angry look on his face was one of open concern for his baby sister. "Ginny, don't—"

But it was too late. Ginny had already turned on the spot, and a second later, she had Apparated away.

She appeared in a breathless rush on the narrow lane leading up to Malfoy Manor, the cold winter air slamming into her. She sucked in a deep breath of the icy air, shivering uncontrollably. She had left so suddenly that, not only had she brought none of her things with her, she had not even brought a coat. Only her scarf was still wrapped around her neck, that and her blue sweater scant warmth against the chill.

She hurried down the lane, thinking only of getting inside somewhere warm, but when she reached the end of the wide driveway, she hesitated, staring up at the imposing, opulent manor. It was a bit of a foggy night, and the diamonds set in the windowpanes twinkled like beacons beneath the cloudy sky. Ginny sniffled, wrapping her arms around herself to try and ward against the chill. Her eyes glimmered, her eyelashes wet, though whether from the biting wind stinging her face or from the distressing situation she had just left behind at her home, she didn't know.

_Not home_, she thought, the Burrow still foremost in her thoughts. _Not anymore._

She still felt wary about coming into Malfoy Manor, unexpected, on Christmas Eve, but it really was too cold to stand outside for very long, so Ginny swallowed her misgivings, hurried up to the gates, and announced herself.

She was let through, and minutes later she stood in the entrance hall, still shivering. The place looked just as it always did, of course, but somehow the dim lighting from the lavish hangings overhead and the gilded sconces on the walls seemed more warm and cozy than gloomy and ominous. The eyes staring down at her from the portraits of Malfoys past was as creepy as ever, though. Ginny avoided their gazes as she waited for the current Malfoy, Draco, to appear.

He did a few minutes later, carrying Will and looking rather hassled. Ginny was a bit surprised by his appearance; his hair was mussed slightly and his usually crisp shirt left open at the neck, with no tie. "About time," he snapped, as he strode forward. "Although I was under the impression you were spending Christmas with your family, Weasley? What happened, not enough room for you in your little shack anymore?"

Teeth chattering, Ginny didn't even bother coming up with a reply to this insult. She was too exhausted, too cold. Not to mention hungry; she hadn't even had dinner yet.

Malfoy frowned when she didn't respond, his forehead creasing as he glanced around her. "Where's all your stuff, anyway? Did Tasher take it up already?"

"I just—I just sort of—" Ginny swallowed, trying to stand still without shivering, but the drafty manor wasn't much warmer than it had been outside, especially not here, just inside the door. "I just sort of…came here. Without—I mean, I meant to come later, but I—sort of argued with my family, and then—" She shrugged. "Well, I came here."

Malfoy was staring at her with narrowed eyes, though his expression warred between suspicion and confusion, as though he had not understood half of what she'd just said. Clicking his tongue in disgust, he turned, jerking his head as an indication for her to follow him. "Oh, just get in here, Weasley," he groused. "Walking around with no coat or cloak, _honestly_…"

Relief and warmth washed over Ginny once they entered the drawing room. She was so cold and tired that she barely noticed as Malfoy led her over to the fireplace. She sank into one of the armchairs gratefully, her chattering teeth and shivering finally coming to a stop as she soaked up the warmth from the blazing fire.

"Now." Malfoy held out Will to her, and she took him, sitting the baby in her lap. Will smiled eagerly at her, waving his arms enthusiastically. "What happened? Your family threw you out, or something?"

"Of course not!" A surge of indignation rushed through her, but it was gone quickly; she was too weary to keep up with that for very long. "But they found out—I mean, I was going to tell them I'd be moving in with you tomorrow night, after everything. I was going to talk to my parents, explain it all to them so they would—so they would understand." She shut her eyes briefly, shaking her head. "But then—Fred and George, they found out, they'd heard something, and—well, they just came at me, and it all went wrong." There was more to it than that, so much more, but Ginny didn't feel like talking about it, reliving it so soon after it had happened. For once, Malfoy seemed to realize this, and for once, he didn't press or make any jibes about her family.

"Have you eaten?" he demanded.

She shook her head wordlessly.

"I'll go tell Nuly to bring you something, then." He stalked off, disappearing from her line of sight, perhaps leaving the room. She was too tired to look.

Ginny sighed, curling up in the armchair. Will was a comforting weight in her lap, a little bundle of comfort and reassurance. Now that the cold was seeping out of her, exhaustion rushed over Ginny like a tidal wave, an exhaustion that was both physical and emotional, and so heavy that it slowly lulled her into sleep. "I'm not really sure what I'm doing here, Will," she said drowsily, her eyes falling shut, "but we'll figure it out later, yeah?'

By the time Malfoy came back, she was almost asleep. She was only vaguely aware of him scooping Will out of her lap, and even then, she only knew it was him by the spicy cinnamon scent of his cologne, the collar of his shirt brushing her lip, ever so lightly. Content that Will was taken care of, food forgotten, she drifted away, slipping into a sleep so deep and peaceful that she didn't even dream.

- - - - -

**Author's Notes:**

Feel free to check out my livejournal (username littlebit_liz) for updates on this fic, as well as cookies.


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**Author's Notes:** Thanks to everyone who left reviews! I really appreciate the feedback. This chapter is rather angsty, though from here on out, the rest of the fic isn't as, er...riddled with deaths, I should say.

Also, I should point out something that was brought to my attention (thank you to **teenybrained27**), which is the dates on this fic. You might notice that they seem to jump back, around Chapter Eleven, I think. This is because I did actually decide to change the dates, so that the whole fic (except the prologue) happens a couple years earlier. The problem here on (as far as I know) is that I can't go back and change those dates in the earlier chapters. If there is a way, please, let me know. I made this decision and changed the dates on other sites, where you can go back and edit previous chapters, not realizing I couldn't do it here on .

As always, feel free to check out my livejournal (username: littlebit_liz) for updates and cookies.

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**Chapter Thirteen**

*******

_March, 2004_

Living with Malfoy in the manor was not quite what Ginny had expected, though in truth, she really hadn't been sure _what_ to expect. But things were certainly more relaxed than she would've thought, to the point that Ginny couldn't tell much difference between the way she'd lived when Malfoy _wasn't_ there and the way she now lived with him there. She suspected this was mostly due to the way Draco personally chose to live, however, as opposed to the way things were previously run at Malfoy Manor. She had expected formal dinners at specific times, proper manners and decorum to be observed, but things weren't that way at all.

For one thing, Ginny rarely even saw Malfoy. Though one or the other of them always had Will in hand, they never spent time together with him. Whoever was free of the baby would wander off to attend to their own business. Life had begun this way from the very first day Ginny spent with Malfoy in the manor, which happened to be Christmas Day.

She'd fallen asleep on that armchair, of course, though that had been fairly early and so she'd woken, only a few hours later. When she did, it was to find Will put to bed and Malfoy sitting slumped in the armchair across from her, a nearly empty wine glass in hand. He'd started when he found her awake, and had merely asked if she would like to go up to her own room to sleep. She had done so, with Malfoy only a step behind. He'd gone in to check on Will while Ginny dressed and got into bed, and she'd fallen asleep before he even left the room.

She'd woken the next morning with some trepidation, wondering exactly how Malfoy meant to observe Christmas. Some of her unease had vanished almost immediately, however, when she found that her bed was surrounded with gifts, most of them from her family, some from her friends. She'd opened them on her own, and while it was a slightly more lonely affair than she was used to, it was more than she had expected, considering the words she'd exchanged with her family the night before. Still, the fact that all her gifts had been delivered had led her to assume what she already expected, that none of her relatives would be seeing her that day. She was proved wrong yet again when, sometime in the late afternoon, her mother had turned up, looking apprehensive but smiling to see Ginny.

_"I—I didn't expect anyone to come here—" Ginny stuttered, upon releasing herself from her mother's greeting embrace._

"Oh, Ginny, it's Christmas," her mother said, tears in her eyes. "Of course I would—no matter where you are, I'll always—I wouldn't leave you alone on Christmas."

Ginny forced a smile. "Oh, I'm not entirely alone here."

Her mother had only stayed a short while, having tea with Ginny in the parlor. They saw neither Will nor Malfoy the whole time, and neither of them mentioned them, either. In fact, they said nothing of the altercation at the Burrow the day before, nothing of Ginny's family, though her mother did mention that her father would have come too, if it weren't for the fact he'd been called in for an emergency, on Christmas, of all days. All in all, the conversation was not as awkward as Ginny had feared, though when she watched her mother leave out the front door, she was not sure if she felt better or worse about the entire situation.

The rest of the day had passed quietly. Malfoy had bought Will a load of presents, which she knew they'd opened together, though she herself had been helping herself to breakfast from the enormous spread the house elves had laid out in the dining hall. An equally overdone fair had been made for dinner, though this, too, was left out in a sort of buffet style, which Ginny and Malfoy had helped themselves too without a word to each other.

And in the following couple of months, life passed similarly. Ginny usually had to be up early to get Will, to feed him, as Malfoy usually had to go to work, though on his free days (usually the weekend), Ginny often woke to find he had taken Will himself. Meals were always set out in the dining hall, never served at any specific time, so Ginny ate whenever she felt like it, as did Malfoy. They lived in this way, under the same roof but their lives almost completely separate. Even on the occasion that the two of them ate at the same time, or found themselves in the same place, such as the library or the east terrace, they barely said a word to each other.

All in all, it took a while for Ginny to adjust to the idea that she was actually doing this, living in Malfoy Manor, with a man she really couldn't stand, looking after his son. She'd done all this for Will, of course, and although it was a conviction she held to most passionately, she did not really think of herself as a maternal sort of woman. Oh, she'd assumed she would have children of her own, one day, but as there had been little chance of that for the past few years, she hadn't thought on it much.

"I'm not your mother," Ginny said one day, addressing Will very seriously. The two of them were in the parlor, a well-decorated, often sunny room on the south side of the manor. There were several finely-carved, varnished wooden chairs with creamy-colored cushions sewn into the seats, as well as a small tea table and a long, marble shelf, which ran around three walls of the room, covered in small picture frames and beautiful ornaments. When she was with Will, Ginny usually forewent the chairs and tea and instead plopped down on the floor with him, as she did now. She sat cross-legged, watching Will as he crawled around not two feet away from her.

"Your mother…had to go." Ginny felt a twinge of sorrow as she imparted this information to Will. The way things stood with Malfoy, Ginny lacked for conversation these days, and so usually found herself talking with Will. Anyway, it was important to speak to babies; her mother had always said so. "So I suppose I'm the closest thing you've got to a mother. But you shouldn't think that I _am_ your mother, because I'm not."

Will paused in his crawling, glancing at her curiously. He had a vague sort of smile on his little face.

"I don't really know what that makes me," she sighed. "You could think of me as your big sister, I suppose? Or an aunt."

If it weren't for the fact that William Scorpius Malfoy was only eight months old, Ginny would've sworn he looked at her with a very skeptical, Malfoy-like expression, raised eyebrow, smirk, and everything.

"No, I guess not," Ginny muttered. "You're right." She heaved another sigh, leaning forward to lie on her stomach, her head propped up in her hands. Will babbled incoherently at her as she moved forward, her face only inches from his.

"You're right," she said aloud, nodding in agreement. "We're friends, aren't we? I mean, I saved you—and you've certainly kept my mind off things I'd rather not dwell on." She swallowed, refusing to think on all those things now. "And we keep each other company here in this dreadful old place that we now call home. And we both put up with Malfoy. Oh, but I forgot, you like spending time with him, don't you?"

Will gurgled his assent.

"Weird," Ginny remarked. "There's no accounting for your taste."

Will looked away from her, seemingly growing disinterested in this conversation.

"Well, you like me too, don't you?" Ginny twisted aside, so she could catch Will's eye again. "And I like you. I care about you. So. Friends?" She held out her pinky to him, which Will grasped tightly in one of his little hands.

"Good." Ginny smiled. "It's a done deal, then."

"What's a done deal?"

Ginny glanced up in surprise as Malfoy wandered into the room. She hadn't even heard him come in, and she colored slightly, hoping he hadn't heard much of that conversation. "None of your business," she said lightly. "It's just a personal transaction between me and Will."

Malfoy grunted at this, but he didn't seem to have really heard her. He was staring at her with the strangest expression on his face, a sort of choked look. He swallowed, looking away from her, his eyes traveling around the room.

Ginny narrowed her eyes. "Something wrong, Malfoy?"

She expected a snide remark, but he said, rather abruptly, "You like this room."

"Excuse me?"

He cleared his throat, still not looking at her. "This room. You're in here a lot."

Ginny shrugged, as well as she could, lying on the floor as she was. "It's one of the brighter rooms in this place. Why? Is that a problem?"

Malfoy didn't answer right away, his gaze coming to rest on the tea table. "No," he said, a distant note to his voice. "It's just…my mum liked this room. It was sort of hers."

Ginny's jaw dropped open. She tried to think of something to say, though she wasn't sure what she _could_ stay, in reply to this statement. Apologize? Offer to leave the room? Before she had decided, however, Malfoy turned to leave. "Of course," he tossed back over his shoulder, "_my_ mum would never have sprawled across the floor like that."

Ginny scowled after him.

Although her mother had visited her at Christmas, Ginny did not see her or her father again, in the following months. The twins never made any attempt to contact her either, which wasn't surprising, even if it hurt. The lack of any word from her father couldn't help but make her wonder if his absence at Christmas had been more than just work keeping him away. As quietly and as little as he had spoken that night she'd left, she knew he was very unhappy with her decision.

Bill and Fleur, however, she saw on a regular basis, which Ginny was incredibly grateful for. She knew Bill didn't exactly approve of her living with Malfoy either, but he accepted that she knew what she was doing, as he always did. Besides, these days he was sort of predisposed to being in a ridiculously happy mood all the time, as Fleur had given birth to their daughter, Victoire, in the middle of January. As a result, Ginny went over as often as she could during the days, while Bill and Malfoy were at work, to help Fleur out in any way she could, looking after both Will and Victoire. Fleur had helped her out, after all; it was all she could do to return the favor.

It was a late afternoon in March that Ginny and Will returned home after a visit with Fleur and her baby; they had not spoken much, as Fleur had been up all night with Victoire and was exhausted, desperate for a nap. Still, Ginny had enjoyed herself, as had Will, who seemed very curious by the newborn. Now back at the manor, Ginny took Will from his pram and picked him up, carrying him directly into the drawing room. "I don't know about you," she said to the baby, "but I'm starving. I say we go down to the dining hall and see what—"

She broke off as she entered the drawing room, the oaken door swinging shut behind her. Malfoy stood before the fireplace, home from work early, but he wasn't alone. Two men in black robes stood conferring with him. Rather, they had cornered him, by the looks of it; Malfoy stood with his back to the unlit fireplace, and the black-robed man stood looming over him. They both turned when Ginny entered, babbling away to the baby, and Ginny recognized them both with a shock of alarm. Terrence Higgs, a Slytherin a few years above her in school, and Malfoy's own Gregory Goyle.

Both all but confirmed Death Eaters.

A flicker of panic flashed through Malfoy's eyes when he spotted them, his face going paler than usual. The panic was gone in an instant, however, to be replaced by a tense, dangerous gleam in his grey eyes. "Weasley," he said warily, "go upstairs."

Ginny barely registered these words of warning, though she was far from ignorant to the danger. As though sensing the tension in the room, Will, too, had gone very still and quiet in her arms. "What's going on?" she demanded, surprised at how calm her voice sounded.

"Weasley." The warning in Malfoy's tone increased, his expression darkening when she didn't immediately follow his order. "Take Will and go upstairs." He straightened, taking a step forward, but Goyle rounded on him, squaring his shoulders in a menacing fashion. Malfoy stopped in his tracks.

The practical side of Ginny's mind was cautioning her to do as Malfoy said, to turn around without another word and leave the room, leave the manor, even, but a stubborn, reckless streak burned within her. She stood her ground, eyeing Higgs, Goyle, and Malfoy in turn. Malfoy seemed to be wanting to act as though nothing was out of place here, as though he were having a friendly chat with two old school friends, but Ginny knew there was more going on here, and she wasn't going to back away from it.

"What's going on?" she reiterated, her words firm.

Higgs smirked, glancing between her and Malfoy with a slightly more interested gaze than Ginny cared for. Malfoy's expression was very controlled, though his eyes darted from Goyle to Ginny, as though gauging whether he could get past his old lackey if he needed to. "We're discussing business, Weasley. It's none of your concern. Will could probably use a nap, so why don't you—"

"Oh, come now, Draco," Higgs interrupted, an unsettling smile stealing over his face. "If Miss—_Weasley_ here wants to hear about the, ah—_business_ we were discussing, there's no reason she shouldn't stay."

Malfoy shot him a glare. "This is nothing to do with her."

"I disagree," Higgs said, his tone flat.

Ginny swallowed. All too late, she was suddenly aware of the child in her arms, not only a target but a hindrance, keeping her from drawing her wand to defend herself. "He does seem a bit tired," she said quickly, "so perhaps I should—"

"But I thought you wanted to know what was going on?" Higgs raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I've changed my mind," she snapped. She reached blindly for the doorknob behind her, but then froze, as Higgs whipped out his wand in a flash, aiming it at her.

"Stay where you are," he said, his voice low and dangerous. The phony smile was gone from his face, and his eyes hardened. Will, as though sensing the trouble, began to fuss. Careful not to move to quickly, Ginny reached up and patted him on the back, attempting to keep him quiet. Higgs' gaze lit on the baby, a frightening gleam in his eye. "So, this is your son, Draco?"

"Leave them out of this, Higgs," Malfoy said sharply. "Don't you touch my son."

Higgs rounded on him. "But I only want to say hello—"

Two things happened at once, then. With Malfoy distracting Higgs, Ginny fumbled for her wand, yanking it out of her pocket while balancing Will on her hip with the other hand. At the same time, a sharp, high-pitched whistling sounded out, shrieking like an alarm throughout the manor. A second later, Ginny realized that was exactly what it was.

"That'll be the Aurors," Malfoy said. His face was full of smug satisfaction, but there was a note of relief in his voice.

Goyle took a step away from him. Higgs glared, his eyes darkening. "You never contacted any Aurors!"

"How stupid do you think I am, you tosser?" Malfoy snapped. "You think I'd let two suspected Death Eaters into my house without alerting anyone? Even with my father's instructions, you'd never have gotten this far if I hadn't let you. Which, interestingly enough—" Malfoy smirked, "—he would have known. You didn't run this past him, did you?"

"Since when does your father have enough standing that anything needs to be run by him!" Higgs spat.

"Malfoy." Goyle spoke suddenly, taking Ginny by surprise. She didn't think she'd ever heard him speak before. His voice was a low rumble, so deep it was almost unintentionally reassuring. "This is a mistake." For a moment, he locked eyes with Malfoy, and Ginny had the oddest impression that he was trying to convey some hidden meaning to his old friend.

Malfoy didn't seem to notice. "You're right, it bloody well was!" he snarled. "Coming into my home, threatening me—"

"We'll do more than that." Higgs began to raise his wand, having all but forgotten Ginny, his back to her.

"_Expelliarmus!_" she shouted, waving her wand in a quick, single move. Higg's wand went flying out of his hand, coming to clatter to the floor behind Ginny. Higgs whirled around in shock and anger, and in the confusion, Malfoy got his own wand out, which he trained on the still-armed Goyle.

"Drop it," he said quietly. Surprisingly, or perhaps not so surprisingly, Goyle did, his wand landing with a soft _thump_ upon the carpet at his feet. Malfoy made a motion with his free hand, and Goyle kicked the wand towards him.

"Let's get out of here!" Higgs hissed.

"And how do you propose to do that?" Malfoy asked coolly. "You can't Apparate out. You could try going out the front door, but you'd have to get past Weasley first." He tossed a nod in her direction and smirked. "Maybe you haven't noticed, but she's like a pit bull."

"I resent that," Ginny muttered.

"And even if you did get past her, I think you'll find you won't get very far," Malfoy added.

As though to confirm these words, the door behind Ginny burst open then and six Aurors rushed in. Ginny was surprised to see a shock of bubblegum pink hair among them. Tonks had returned from the Continent even before Malfoy had, though Ginny had not seen her since then.

As the five other Aurors moved to surround Higgs and Goyle, Tonks stepped around them, eyeing them with something very like glee in her bright eyes. "Wotcher, Draco," she said, sidling up to her cousin. Ginny was rather shocked to see the two of them exchange almost identical smirks—though Malfoy dropped his almost immediately, his face forming a scowl in its place.

Higgs looked furious, his dark cheeks red with anger. "Greyback will hear of this, Malfoy," he snarled.

"An interesting thing to say, Higgs," Tonks said cheerfully, "considering Greyback is wanted for consorting with Death Eaters. Have you been doing the same?"

Higgs clamped his mouth shut, glaring at her.

"Ah, well, I suppose a confession was too much to hope for," Tonks said with mock-disappointment. "Well, then, Malfoy, we'll be out of your way. They'll want you down in Auror Headquarters tomorrow, to answer some questions."

Malfoy nodded in acquiescence. "Of course."

Tonks and the rest of the Aurors escorted Higgs and Goyle out of the room, Tonks tossing her a wink as she walked by. Ginny would've liked to have talked with her, but she knew now wasn't the best time, with Tonks on the job, taking two criminals into custody.

Malfoy walked them out of the manor, and by the time he returned to the drawing room, Ginny had collapsed onto the sofa, attempting to calm a still fussing Will. She glanced up at him when he came in. "Well, that certainly was rather—"

"You stupid, _stupid_ witch!" Malfoy bellowed. Ginny flinched when he swung his arm back and knocked a vase onto the floor. It smashed into a million pieces all over the carpet. "What in the world were you _thinking?_"

Ginny got to her feet, staring at him in amazement. She was more shocked by his ferocity than anything else, though anger was beginning to simmer within her. "Malfoy, how was I supposed to know they were in here, I'd only just got—"

"_I told you to leave!_ I told you to take Will and go, and you just stood there!" Malfoy was red in the face, his grey eyes dark like black storm clouds. She didn't think she'd ever seen him so incensed, boiling over with fury. "With two bloody Death Eaters in the room, you _stood_ there, with my _son!_ What the hell did I hire you for, you bloody idiot!"

"I didn't know what was going on—"

"You knew they were Death Eaters, didn't you?"

"Malfoy, they had you cornered. I wasn't just going to—"

"Since when are you bloody worried about _me?_" Malfoy snarled. "_Forget_ me, Weasley! Your job is to keep _him_ safe, and to hell with me. You've done it before, haven't you, at the Ministry, when he was born? Oh, right—" A cruel note of sarcasm entered his voice. "You don't _remember_ that, do you?"

Ginny fought back another flinch. "That's not fair."

"I don't give a damn about what's fair!" Malfoy shouted. He was now so red, breathing so heavily, that he looked ready to spontaneously combust. "You put my son in danger! You could have been killed, the both of you!"

"Malfoy," Ginny said irritably, "just shut up and listen to me for a—"

"I don't want to listen to you, Weasley," he snapped. "I don't even want to _look_ at you." With that, he turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him as he went.

Will burst into tears. Ginny tried to shush him and calm him, but she was tense with anger, still glaring at the place Malfoy had been. She pulled out her wand and waved it at the shards of glass spilled across the floor. "_Reparo_," she muttered. "C'mon, Will. You'll feel better after a nap."

Malfoy avoided Ginny for the rest of the week. She'd thought his temper would cool after a few days, but he proved relentless in his anger against her. He made sure to get up before Ginny every morning, so that he could be the one to take the baby down for breakfast. Ginny supposed this was some bizarre way of him trying to anger her or punish her, which she found to be entirely ridiculous, considering it meant she got to lie in every morning. And it wasn't as though he was keeping Will from her, because she had him for the rest of the day while Malfoy was at work. Still, Ginny was annoyed by these actions; the mere fact that he was doing it to punish her made her exasperated. On the rare occurrence that they ever encountered one another, somewhere in the manor, Ginny would shove by him in huffy silence, while Malfoy usually made some scathing remark about her. There were a couple of memorable occasions in which Ginny, instead of ignoring him, had thrown a cruel jibe back at him. On both of these occasions, they'd descended into screaming matches, ending with one or the other storming away with Will in hand.

On Sunday morning, Ginny woke, once again, to find Will already gone from his nursery; presumably, he was in the dining hall with his father. If Malfoy went into work that day at all, it wouldn't be until sometime later, she knew. Groaning at the very prospect of running into Malfoy that day, Ginny rolled out of bed, pulling only a bathrobe on over her pajamas, and stalked downstairs. Malfoy didn't like it when she walked around the manor in only her pajamas and a robe, so she was half-hoping to run into him, just to annoy him. Still, she decided against deliberately going into the dining hall and, instead, seated herself comfortably in the drawing room, where she asked Nuly to bring her a cup of tea. She was reaching for the paper, which Malfoy had apparently left there, when the fireplace roared to life and Adrian Pucey's head appeared in it.

"Pucey!" Startled, Ginny dropped the paper and scrambled out of her armchair, coming to kneel on the floor in front of the fireplace. "What's going on?" She couldn't think of a reason why Adrian Pucey, who was supposed to be in hiding and out of contact with most everyone, would be calling on Malfoy Manor.

"Ginny." Pucey's tone was unusually somber. "Is Draco there? He hasn't gone in to work, has he?"

Bewildered, Ginny nodded, then shook her head. "Yes, I mean—well, no, he hasn't gone in to work. He's here. Did you—should I go get him?"

"No need," Pucey answered, his words clipped. His dark eyebrows were furrowed deeply, giving him a very troubled expression. "I just wanted to be sure he was there as well. You can pass on the news."

It was this word, 'news,' which put Ginny on her guard. Dread began pooling in her gut, as she put together Pucey's sober demeanor and his unexpected call. "What news?" she asked sharply. "What happened?"

"Ginny, it's—"

"Who is it?" She sucked in a harsh breath, fear rising in her throat, threatening to take away her voice. "Is it—my parents, my brothers, are they—"

"They're all fine," Pucey interrupted. "Nothing's happened to any of them, but—it's not—" Pucey swallowed. "Not everyone's okay. There was…sort of an accident—"

_Merlin_. Ginny swallowed. "_Who_, Pucey?"

Pucey let out a heavy breath. "Ginny, it's—it's Gabrielle. Gabrielle Delacour."

***

Ginny stared into the empty fireplace, where Adrian Pucey had been just a moment before. She clutched her arm in one hand, her fingernails digging into her skin. Taking in a shaky breath, she shut her eyes. This was a mistake, as a hot, heavy tear instantly spilled onto her cheek. Angrily, Ginny wiped it away.

Gabrielle. _Gabrielle_. Oh, Merlin, she was so young—

"Who just called, Weasley?"

With a startled gasp, Ginny looked around. Malfoy had come into the room, a scowl, which lately seemed to be a permanent attribute of his, in place on his face. Ginny gulped and glanced away from him, trying to regain her composure. But it was too late. Malfoy seemed to take in her expression immediately; tears had welled in her eyes the moment Pucey had told her, and she was sure she was white as a sheet.

"What happened?" Malfoy asked sharply. "Who was it?"

"It was Pucey," Ginny said hoarsely. Trying to control her buckling knees, she got to her feet, running a hand over her eyes. "He said—it's—we have to go to headquarters, Order headquarters, there's—Lupin's called a meeting—"

"For what?" Malfoy demanded. "Weasley, what _happened?_"

"There was—I don't know, some kind of accident." Ginny shook her head. "Pucey didn't seem to know much, but he said—I—it's—" She paused and swallowed, trying to swallow her tears as she did so. "Malfoy, it's—Gabrielle."

A hitch of his eyebrow, that was Malfoy's only reaction. For a split second, something terrible marred his expression, but a moment later, she thought she must have imagined it. He stared at her, his face stony. "Gabrielle?"

"Yes, Fleur's sister, you know, she helped us in Paris—"

"I know who she is, Weasley!" Malfoy's words came out in one, harsh breath. Though his expression gave nothing away, he, too, had gone very pale, paler even than usual. His cheeks were absolutely bloodless. "What kind of accident? She's…okay, right? It's bad, I suppose, it's serious, but she's…I mean, she's not—"

"She's—she's gone, Malfoy," Ginny whispered. "She's—gone."

Malfoy fell silent suddenly, staring at her. She still could read nothing on his face. If anything, after hearing these words, he was more impassive, his eyes cold, aloof. "She's dead?" he said bluntly.

Ginny winced at these words, the words she herself had been unable to articulate. "Y-yes."

For a moment, there was only silence. Ginny stared at Malfoy, trying to control her trembling chin, forcing her tears back. Malfoy stared back, and it was like nothing Ginny had ever seen before. She would have expected him to either be upset, visibly upset, or to not be upset, as heartless as that seemed. But he was both, and yet neither. He didn't cry, or say anything; he was not shaken. But his pale face, his utter lack of any scathing remark—he _was_ shaken. In a strange, imperceptible way.

"Anyway, Lupin's called an Order meeting," Ginny said, forcing herself to focus. "At Order headquarters; I'll show you how to get in, of course. I guess we're going to—I don't know, maybe Lupin will explain—Pucey just said there was an accident, they didn't seem to think it—that it could be—"

"Death Eaters," Malfoy said flatly.

Ginny nodded. "So, erm, we should—the meeting's not for another three hours, but we should leave as soon as we can. We'll have to take Will, I think, we shouldn't—yes. So we'll have to go by train, I think, to London. We can't Floo there, it's not connected. There's always the Knight Bus, but I've never been on it with a baby and I don't think that's really—"

"Train's fine," Malfoy interrupted. "We should wear Muggle clothing, then." He turned away. "I'll tell Nuly to get Will ready, he's with her."

Ginny nodded. Once he'd left the room, she took in a deep, shuddering breath and squeezed her eyes shut. She would not cry, she couldn't, not now. They had to get dressed, had to get ready to go.

She made her way up to her room and went to her closet, where she immediately pulled on a pair of jeans, without really thinking. She tried to focus, but her thoughts seemed to be moving of their own accord, jumping from one thing, to the next. When she'd realized Pucey was bringing news of someone's death, her mind had begun preparing her, preparing her for this dreadful blow, this pain. And yet, the shock of it being Gabrielle…she was so young, so…well, she had been in the Order, and yet she seemed…it seemed so unfair, like a total innocent, someone uninvolved had been…taken.

And yet, apparently this was not the work of Death Eaters. An accident, Pucey had said. What did that _mean?_ Was her death totally unrelated to the war and the fear going on around them everyday? It seemed so strange, so unreal. She'd gotten used to the deaths by now; they'd become a normal facet of her life for the past eight years. But it was so _wrong_ to think like that, to accept Gabrielle's death as normal…death was never normal, never okay, it couldn't be…

The trip to London, by Muggle train, took nearly an hour and a half, and the walk from Waterloo Station to Grimmauld Place was longer still. They arrived a good half hour before the meeting was scheduled to begin, and on the way to the meeting room, they passed the kitchen, where they found Tracey and Pucey having a cup of tea by themselves.

"Hey, Gin." Tracey looked especially grim as she greeted them, a sort of deadened look in her eyes. She eyed Malfoy coolly before giving him a nod of her head. "Malfoy."

"Davis."

"You're a bit early," Pucey noted, "but that's probably good. Lupin wants a word with you, Draco, before the meeting gets started."

If Ginny hadn't been looking at Malfoy, she wouldn't have noticed anything strange; his voice was perfectly controlled. At his pronouncement from Pucey, however, he stiffened, for just a moment, before taking a seat at the table, beside Tracey and Will's pram. "Why?" he asked. "Is he here yet?"

Pucey shrugged. "Dunno why, but no, he's not here yet. He went to pick up Charlie Weasley."

"Charlie?" Ginny glanced around, startled, from the counter, where she'd gone to brew herself a cup of tea as well. "Charlie's coming? What for?"

"What do you think, Weasley." Malfoy's tone was constricted, a little too carefully controlled. "He probably wants to talk to Tonks, too."

The pieces suddenly fell together in Ginny's mind. Tonks, Charlie, Malfoy. The three of them had worked together on the Continent, not three months ago, with Gabrielle. "But then," Ginny said, her throat dry, "doesn't that mean—I mean, you said there was some kind of accident. But now it sounds like—well, like Lupin suspects…foul play."

"Death Eaters," Malfoy said bluntly. He drummed his fingers on the table restlessly, without seeming to realize he was doing so. The only sign that he was the least bit unsettled.

Tracey exchanged a glance with Pucey and sighed. "Look, Lupin really didn't say much. We won't know anything 'til he gets here." She glanced around at Ginny. "By the way, Gin, most of your family is already here, I think. They're in the meeting room."

Ginny tensed. "I—oh. Of course."

Malfoy lifted a curious eyebrow at her, but she pretended she had not noticed and ducked behind the corner, looking for a cup. As a result, she first heard, before she saw, her brother Charlie come in. "There you are, Malfoy," came his voice from the doorway. "I just got here with Lupin, he wants—Ginny!"

Ginny popped up from behind the counter at the sound of her brother's voice. "Charlie," she breathed, leaving her mug on the counter as she rushed forward to toss herself into his arms. He gave her a long, tight squeeze before stepping back to give her a smile with a studious eye, as though making sure she was all right.

"I forgot," he said. "Mum told me you were living with Malfoy now."

Ginny wondered if he felt her stiffen beneath his grip on her shoulders. Charlie, of course, had not been at the Burrow on Christmas Eve, had not witnessed that horrible scene. "I suppose you've gotten their side of the story, then," she said flatly. "That I'm—I don't know—fraternizing with the enemy—"

Malfoy, standing in the doorway, snorted at this.

Charlie, however, smiled weakly and ruffled her hair. "He's not exactly the enemy, Gin. Anyway, I'm sure you know what you're doing. I hardly think you would've stuck with him for three months if you weren't happy where you are."

"But—" Ginny blinked. "So you're not—you don't think I'm being stupid, or—I don't know, in danger, or something?"

The look Charlie sent her was a quizzical one. "No." He tossed Malfoy a quick glance, then lowered his voice as he said, "Honestly, Ginny, Malfoy's a fairly decent person."

Ginny couldn't help it; she answered these words with an incredulous stare, but before she could demand an explanation, Malfoy called irritably, "Oi, Charlie, are we going or not?" Ginny started and glanced over at him, where he stood in the doorway, now with Tonks beside him. She shook her head; it was strange to hear Malfoy calling one of her brothers by his first name.

Malfoy, Charlie, and Tonks disappeared down the corridor together. Ginny hesitated. "Well—I guess I should go see my family, then."

"Have the tea first," Tracey advised, having been apprised of the tense situation Ginny was in with her family.

After a strong cup of black tea, Ginny left Pucey and Tracey in the kitchen with Will, and wandered into the meeting room. Luckily, by this time, more members of the Order had drifted into the room as well, dispelling some of Ginny's nerves. Still, she walked into the room and faced her family with trepidation.

They were all sitting at the end of the long table, her parents, the twins, Bill. They were all pale-faced, talking quietly with each other, but they fell silent when Ginny appeared. Before any awkward pauses could ensue, her mother got to her feet and rushed over to her. "Oh, Ginny," she whispered, enveloping her daughter in a comforting hug. "I'm so glad you're here."

"Me too, Mum." She stepped back a pace and found Bill just behind their mother, waiting to give Ginny a hug as well. "Bill," Ginny murmured. She glanced around sadly. "Fleur?"

"She didn't come," Bill said quietly. He sighed. "She said I could…give her any information from the meeting. She'll be okay, though," he added, no doubt in response to Ginny's stricken expression. "I mean, in the long run…she'll be okay."

"Yeah." Ginny smiled weakly. "Especially with you to look after her."

"Ginny." Ginny turned at the sound of her father's voice, trying to calm her fluttering pulse. A lump of dread had settled in her gut, afraid to face her father's reaction to seeing her since Christmas Eve. But before she could say anything, he took her in a hug as well. He stepped back then, peering into her face, much as Charlie had done. "How are you, Ginny?" he asked critically.

"I'm fine, Dad. Well—" She shrugged, glancing around her as though to indicate the reason they were all here. "Not _fine_, not right now, but otherwise—I'm doing okay."

Her father nodded slowly, though there was still a suspicious, critical look in his eyes, as though he was not quite sure he should believe her. He said no more, however, and Ginny supposed he did not think this the right time or place to question her further. Relieved of this, Ginny glanced around for her remaining brothers and found George glaring over Ginny's head. "What is _he_ doing here?" he demanded.

Ginny looked around, and found Malfoy and Tonks coming into the room, though Lupin and Charlie were still nowhere to be seen. "Remus asked him to come, George," Ginny replied, her temper flaring in spite of the grave situation.

"Why?" George turned on her with a hardened expression. Though she knew it was not for her, it still only heightened her annoyance. "Must be because he suspects Malfoy had a hand in this."

"In what?" Ginny stared at him in shock. "In—in Gabrielle's _death?_ George, how can you say that?"

Fred rubbed a hand behind his neck. "He did work with her, Gin—"

"Yeah, _with_ her," Ginny said angrily. "Along with Tonks and Charlie, who are also here, by the way."

George opened his mouth to respond, but just then, Lupin came in with Charlie. As Charlie ushered over to greet his family, Lupin directed everyone to take their seats. Ginny sat with Bill on her right and Charlie on her left, while Malfoy took a seat beside Tonks, further along down the table. Tracey had brought Will in, sleeping soundly in his pram, beside her chair. Malfoy tossed his son a concerned glance before turning his attention to Lupin, who had called the meeting to order.

Lupin began with a few words about Gabrielle, and they held a minute of silence for her. Then, he got into the heart of the matter—this 'accident' that had caused her death. "All we know for sure," he said, sounding as though he were steeling himself for this, "is that she took a vial of Drought of Living Death—"

"That shouldn't actually kill you, though," Fred interrupted. "That potion should only have made her look as though she were dead."

Lupin nodded. "Yes, when brewed correctly, that is the potion's effect. Unfortunately, after a careful examination, it appears the potion Gabrielle took had a hint too much asphodel. It doesn't take very much, I'm afraid—put in even a little too much of that particular ingredient, and, well…" He trailed off, his jaw tightening.

"Why was she even taking Drought of Living Death?" her mother asked anxiously. "Why would she have wanted to appear as though she were dead?"

"Contingency plan, Molly," Tonks said, a note of regret to her voice. "We all had several, while we did our work in the Continent. In case something went wrong, in case the Death Eaters came after us. Gabrielle was the only one who had that potion on hand, though, because, well—" She spread her hands.

"Because she was excellent at brewing Potions," Malfoy said suddenly, his voice hard. "Which makes it all the more unlikely that she would've added too much asphodel."

Lupin sent Malfoy a knowing gaze. "Accidents do happen, Draco."

"But you think it wasn't an accident?" George raised an eyebrow in Malfoy's direction, his expression dark. "You think it was—what—your lot?"

"If by that you mean Death Eaters—" Malfoy started in icily.

"But why?" Ginny cut in, heading off an argument. She looked down the table at Malfoy. "Because they discovered she was working with us?"

"It seems likely that she did have reason to suspect such," Lupin admitted. "That is the only reason that she would have taken the potion. However…" He shook his head. "In the case that she used this particular contingency plan, Gabrielle was to contact me first. After all, if Death Eaters were after her, it would not have done her any good to take a potion to put her in a death-assuming sleep, and then to be left alone, in such a state, in her flat. She would have needed to be discovered by the right people."

"But she didn't contact you," Dean Thomas deduced.

"No, she didn't." Lupin shrugged. "I suppose…it's possible she tried, and her message went astray. Or perhaps she meant to, and found she didn't have time. I don't know."

"Or maybe," George said, an ugly note to his voice, "the Death Eaters are behind this." Ginny was startled to see Malfoy nod absently in agreement, not startled by his suspicions, but by the idea that her brother and Malfoy were actually agreeing on something.

"But was there…I mean, was there any sign she'd been…" Neville Longbottom swallowed. "Tortured? For information, I mean?"

Lupin shook his head. "Not a mark on her."

"That doesn't mean anything," Malfoy objected. "Death Eaters know how to cover that sort of thing up."

"But why would they, Malfoy?" Ginny said quietly. She almost would've liked to have the Death Eaters to blame—and by the sound of it, they partially were, if they were after Gabrielle—but this didn't quite make sense. "What possible reason could they have for covering it up? For making it look like an accident?"

"Especially if they wanted to send a message." Kingsley nodded. "It would have been…messier. They wouldn't have made it look like an accident, then."

Malfoy looked as though he wanted to respond, but he seemed to bite back an angry retort, settling back in his chair, a muscle tightening in his jaw. Ginny watched him a moment longer before turning her attention back to Lupin who, seeming to consider the matter settled, had moved on to further instructions and discussion for the Order. Ginny found it hard to focus and Malfoy, she noticed, sat sullenly in his chair, not seeming to pay much attention either. The meeting concluded nearly an hour after it had begun, and then everyone began to get up and depart. Many people stopped to speak to Bill on the way, passing on condolences for Fleur and her family.

Ginny hesitated as she got to her feet, wondering if she should try and speak to her family further, but Malfoy trudged up to her immediately, a grumpy look on his face. "Let's get out of here," he groused. "Where's Will? Does Davis still have him?" He glanced around.

Before Ginny could respond, she turned and saw George advancing on them, an anxious-looking Fred trailing behind him. "Oh, damn," she whispered. Trying to head off what would probably be a confrontation, she said, "George, are you—"

"Malfoy," George said aggressively, ignoring Ginny completely.

Malfoy turned around, his eyes flashing. "Weasley."

"You seem awfully convinced that the Death Eaters were behind Gabrielle's death." George sounded as though he was trying very hard to keep his anger in check, to keep from shouting. "Any particular reason?"

"If you're suggesting I had something to do with it—"

"Or knew about it, at least," Fred interrupted.

Malfoy stared at him. "You think I _knew_ that the Death Eaters were going after her," he said, his voice shaking with barely-suppressed rage, "and did nothing about it?"

"Yeah, something like that," George shot back.

"Don't be ridiculous, you two!" Ginny said in dismay.

"Is it so ridiculous, Ginny?" Fred asked. "I mean, is it really?"

"Yes!" Ginny asserted. She held an arm out to physically restrain Malfoy, who had tensed and taken a step forward. "Malfoy and Gabrielle _worked_ together for months! He couldn't have—he never would have—and Charlie!" She glanced around, but Charlie was deep in conversation with Bill, and neither of them seemed to notice the argument going on between their siblings. "Charlie worked with him too, remember? And he said Malfoy was a decent person!"

Malfoy seemed to relax for a moment, though out of shock, Ginny thought. "He said what?"

"Yeah, well, Charlie was in Romania mostly, wasn't he?" Fred pointed out. "And Malfoy was in France, they probably never even spoke—"

"What do you know about it, Weasley?" Malfoy snapped. "You weren't there."

"The bottom line is, working with Gabrielle doesn't mean anything, Malfoy." George took an angry step forward, so much so that Ginny stepped back, forcing Malfoy back with her. "Ginny had to force you into helping us anyway. You weren't _friends_ with Gabrielle, you didn't give a damn about her—"

"You don't know what you're talking about!" Malfoy snarled loudly, drawing the attention of several people in the room. Ginny half-turned and grabbed Malfoy's wrist in one hand, her other arm still across his chest in an effort to keep him from launching himself at George. A part of her was stunned; she had rarely seen so Malfoy so incensed that he was losing control this way.

"If Lupin hadn't wanted you here for questioning," George went on, relentless, "you wouldn't even have any right to be here."

"Enough!" Ginny snapped, glaring at her brother. Fred had backed down, even looking slightly ashamed, but George still had an ugly look on his face. She ignored him and rounded on Malfoy. "Malfoy, stop it!" she hissed. "Calm down! Look, we're leaving, all right?"

With visible effort, Malfoy breathed in deeply, as though trying to force the anger out of him. He wrenched free of Ginny's grip and took a step back, putting more distance between himself and George. "Fine," he grated. "Let's go, then." He turned his back on them and stalked away, going to retrieve Will from Tracey, who was still sitting beside his pram.

"Ginny—" Fred started up, but Ginny flung up a hand, indicating that she didn't want to hear it. She turned to join Malfoy at the door, but before she could make it, her mother rushed forward, her father hovering behind her.

"Ginny, dear, please, wait—"

"I can't, Mum." She sent her mother one quick, beseeching look, hoping she would understand. "I really can't, I've got to go. Look, I'll talk to you later, all right?" Without waiting for an answer, without saying goodbye to anyone else, she turned and followed Malfoy out of the room, down the corridor, and out of Grimmauld Place.

Ginny didn't say anything on the way to the train station, or on the long journey back to Salisbury. She was still too angry, still riled up with rage piled over grief, and by the stormy look on Malfoy's face, he felt the same. Somewhere close to the end of the train trip, however, Malfoy glanced over at her, a pensive light in his eyes, nearly hidden behind his scowl. "You stuck up for me."

"What?" Ginny snapped, still distracted by her anger. She didn't even look at him, her eyes glued to Will.

Malfoy didn't seem put off by her tone. "You stuck up for me. Against your brothers."

"They were being gits."

"You said I couldn't have had anything to do with Gabrielle's death, that I wouldn't have stayed quiet about it if I had known it was going to happen." She did look at him now, and found him staring at through narrowed eyes. "Do you really believe that?"

"Yes, of course I do," she said waspishly, turning her gaze back to Will. "I'd hardly be living with you if I didn't."

Malfoy didn't say anything in response, but when he sat back in his seat, he seemed a little less irritable, slightly mollified. This didn't last for very long, however, once they finally got home. Ginny felt listless; she didn't know what to do, for the rest of the evening. She fed Will and put him to bed, and then, even though she was not very tired herself, she did the same. She wanted to fall into blissful oblivion; she did not want to dwell on the day's events.

Once in bed, she drifted off to sleep sooner than she expected, weary, no doubt, from the trip. She only slept for a few hours, however, before she woke, and instead of falling back into sleep, she found herself wide awake. With a sigh, she got out of bed, checked in on Will, and then headed downstairs for the dining hall. Perhaps Nuly could get her a glass of milk or something. Maybe a small bite to eat, she hadn't even had dinner—

She stopped, a bit startled, when she reached the dining hall. It was dark, but the door to the sitting room, adjacent to the dining hall, was open, and there was a light on, glowing dimly. She knew it was past midnight, or very nearly, anyway, and Malfoy had grumbled something to the effect of that he was going to go to bed, too, once they'd gotten home. Inexplicably wary, Ginny crept across the dining hall, her feet, clad in socks, making no noise as she entered the sitting room.

She could not say whether she was surprised or not to see Malfoy inside, still fully dressed in his Muggle clothes. He stood leaning over a narrow table that held several decanters, both of water, wine, and Firewhiskey, as well as several glasses. One of the decanters of Firewhiskey, large as it was, was nearly empty. Ginny certainly wasn't surprised to see Malfoy had a glass in hand. As she watched, he knocked back the contents of his glass, then immediately went to pour himself another, emptying out the decanter completely. It was only then that he spotted Ginny, standing in the doorway. His eyebrow hitched in surprise, but then his expression went as dead as it had been a moment before. "Thought you'd gone to bed," he groused.

"I did." Ginny shrugged. "Couldn't sleep."

Malfoy only grunted in response, falling heavily onto a black leather divan, slinging one arm over the back of it. He took a deep drink of his Firewhiskey and stared into the fire, the only source of light in the shadowed room. He ignored her for a moment, but when she said nothing further and didn't move, he gestured vaguely. "Have a drink, Weasley," he said, his words slightly slurred. "That'll put you to sleep."

"It doesn't seem to have done you any good, in that respect." She stepped forward finally, coming into the room to stand beside the drinks' table. In spite of his invitation, she was still on her guard.

Malfoy snorted. "Well, you're a lightweight. Probably," he amended.

Ginny sighed, folding her arms over her chest. They were quiet for several minutes, and though it was not an uncomfortable or awkward silence, Ginny could feel a building tension between them, filled with all the things they weren't saying. Ginny finally dared to speak, though she didn't immediately press for the information she wanted to know.

"It doesn't make sense to me." She saw Malfoy move, out of the corner of her eye, and she could feel his eyes on her, but she stared at the fire, as he had been doing a moment before. "Just…hearing that she's—gone. For sure. I've become so used to—" She blew out a breath, struggling to articulate her thoughts. "To hearing about disappearances, possible deaths, but without confirmation." She didn't specifically mention Blaise or Ron, but she knew he knew whom she was talking about. "Either that, or, well…actually seeing someone die. With my own eyes."

Malfoy shrugged. "But it's better this way." There was an ironic, bitter twist to his voice, as though he didn't quite mean what he said.

"I suppose." Ginny shot him a quick look, trying to determine what he really meant. "It's just…it's mad. It's mad that hearing about a death, a normal, accidental death has become so…out of place." She pursed her lips. "But a war will do that, I suppose."

_Slam_. Ginny flinched, her eyes flying over to Malfoy as he banged his glass down on the coffee table in front of him. She was surprised it didn't break. "It wasn't normal or accidental," he seethed. His eyes were dark, darker than Ginny had ever seen them. She was almost frightened by the intensity of his expression. "You're a fool if you actually believe that, Weasley."

"Why?" Ginny demanded, after taking a moment to regain her voice, her composure. "Why are you so convinced the Death Eaters were behind it? We went over that, Malfoy, it doesn't even make sense!"

Malfoy shook his head. "I don't care. It _does_ make sense, if you knew what I—" He clamped his mouth shut, his eyes darting to hers and then away.

Ginny tensed. He hadn't said as much all day, but without even realizing it, she'd had her suspicions, buried deep beneath the grief and the shock and the outrage. "Knew what?" she echoed. "What do you know that I don't?"

"Nothing." For a second time, Malfoy knocked back the contents of his glass. He eyed her cautiously before coming to his feet, swaying slightly, and making his way over to the drinks' table, where she still stood. "I just meant, if you knew what I did, about Death Eaters. But you can't," he said, making this statement sound almost cruel. He reached for a second decanter of Firewhiskey and opened it. "You aren't one."

"Nor are you," Ginny said sharply.

"You know what I mean."

"And you're lying." Without even thinking about it, Ginny yanked the decanter of Firewhiskey out of his hand, before he could pour himself another glass. Forcing him to pay attention to her. "That's not what you were going to say."

Malfoy turned on her, his eyes flashing with anger. "Yes, it was."

"You were so riled up when George said you didn't care about Gabrielle," she went on, holding the decanter behind her, out of his reach. "When he talked about you working with her—"

"Anyone would've been riled up, he was insulting me. Anyone would have—"

"Not you." Ginny retreated a few paces from him, setting the decanter on a table behind her. "You've kept everything in check, everything in control all day, Malfoy. Or at least, you did until George started in on you."

"Yeah, well, he was having a go at me—"

"You were ready to attack him!"

"Well, he deserved it!" Malfoy took several quick steps towards her, closing the distance between them. His eyes burned with the effects of the alcohol, and with something far more intense. For the second time, Ginny was almost frightened, but she stood her ground, refusing to back away. "He doesn't know what's talking about! He wasn't there, he doesn't know what happened, what we had to do—"

"What?" Ginny whispered. "Malfoy, what did you have to do?"

Malfoy opened his mouth, and for a moment, Ginny thought he was actually going to answer her. But then he shut his mouth, pulling back. Shaking his head, he glanced away from her. "It doesn't matter," he said harshly. "It probably didn't make any difference, and look what it's cost—"

"Malfoy, please." Ginny shut her eyes. "Don't—"

"Don't _what?_" Just as suddenly as he'd pulled away, he rounded on her again, looming over her until he was so close that she would've been pressed against him, had she taken a step forward. A shiver prickled down Ginny's spine, though out of fear or something else, something even more frightening, she didn't know. His eyes burned into her, raw antagonism boiling in his eyes.

Ginny swallowed. "I don't know what it is that happened in France," she said, and she was surprised and a little disgusted with herself to hear her voice shake, just a little. "I don't know what you did, or what she did, or what you both did. But this…" She gestured around him. "Stop blaming yourself. I'm sure this wasn't your fault."

Malfoy squinted uncertainly. She could tell he hadn't expected this from her, or perhaps he had not really considered what he was doing, that he was obviously holding himself to blame. But then the dark look returned to his eyes. "You're _sure?_" He sneered. "You're sure."

Ginny only nodded, refusing to back down.

Malfoy laughed hollowly. It was the deadest sound she'd ever heard. "What do you think you know about me, Weasley? Anything you've seen, anything you think you know—don't you get it? It's all just lies! Lies you've told yourself, false images you've stocked up to make yourself feel better—"

"I don't believe that—"

"I'm a Death Eater," he said flatly.

"No, you're not."

"Stop saying that!" he shouted. Wrenching back his sleeve in one quick, fluid motion, he shoved his forearm in her face. "It's still there, Weasley, not as 'invisible' as you might think! They don't go away for good, not ever. It's a permanent sign—" His voice dropped suddenly, his words painfully quiet now "—of every atrocity I'm capable of. You can wish it away all you want. It still won't go."

Ginny stared at his arm, unable to tear her eyes away. The mark had faded considerably, but he was right, it wasn't gone completely, it wasn't invisible. Instead of the stark, black ink it might've had when Voldemort was in power, it was a muted grey, like a bruise, slowly vanishing as the damage was healed. A faint imprint, refusing to be entirely forgotten.

Repressing a shudder, Ginny forced her eyes away, lifting her gaze to meet his. His words were gnawing at her, trying to worm their way into her thoughts, her perception of him. But she wouldn't allow that. She closed her arm around his wrist and forced his arm down, where she couldn't see it. He flinched beneath her fingertips, as though trying to pull away, but Ginny held fast.

"As weird as this might seem—" She was surprised how calm, how steady her voice was, "—I think Gabrielle actually liked you. I mean, I only saw her with you the once, at the hospital, so I can't know for sure—"

"Bloody right you can't." Malfoy was breathing heavily, as though her words and her grip on his wrist were too painful, were too much for him to take all at once. "You won't ever know what she thought of me, I won't ever know, because she's _dead_."

Ginny flinched. "Malfoy—"

"She's dead because she helped me, all right? Because she helped _us_ out, Weasley, because we set the Death Eaters on her trail _months_ ago, and as soon as they got the chance, as soon as they got what they wanted out of her, they killed her—"

"Malfoy, they _didn't_. Look, sometimes these things just happen—"

"_Things—don't—just—happen!_" Violently wrenching himself out of her grip, Malfoy seized the decanter on the table behind her and hurled it across the room. The glass shattered into the far wall, spilling whiskey and shards across the carpeted floor.

Stifling a sharp breath, Ginny stepped away from him, backing into the table. Malfoy whirled around to face her again, swaying dangerously on his feet. There were tears in his eyes, giving them a look of glimmering anguish, frozen in place. Then that veneer of ice broke and he stumbled back, falling heavily onto the divan, before he buried his face in his hands and cried.

An image rose unbidden in Ginny's mind, a clear shot of an earlier Malfoy, from over a year ago now. Standing in his mother's hospital room, standing over her bed, gulping back great, shuddering sobs. She couldn't get the image out of her head, and it blurred and merged with the image of him now, slumped over on the divan, his shoulders shaking with tears.

A thick, burning sensation rose in her throat until she thought she might choke on it. Overwhelming pity. Numbly, Ginny stumbled forward; she couldn't seem to stop herself. Then she was sitting on the divan beside him, silent and still. After a moment, he breathed in deeply and straightened, leaning forward as though he were about to get to his feet. But Ginny reached for him, taking a hold of his arm, pulling him back, and he didn't fight her. Instead, he slumped back against the divan, and Ginny did the same, coming so close to him that her shoulder rested comfortably over his arm, against his chest. And it was silent, save for their light, even breathing, and they sat there together, into the early hours of the morning.

- - - - -

**Author's Notes:**

I feel like I should apologize to poor George, for kind of making him the bad guy. If Ron weren't gone, it would probably be him reacting so strongly to Ginny and Draco. And really, from his point of view, he's not trying to be a jerk. He really is just concerned about Ginny.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**Author's Notes: **Thanks to everyone who reviewed! This chapter is a bit weird, because of what Ginny is going through in it, so I hope it all makes sense. It's supposed to be a bit surrealist, but I don't want anything to be confusing.

I don't usually do this playlist thing, but while I was writing this chapter, I listened to one particular song on repeat a lot, because it fits what Ginny's going through really well. It's called 'Bring On the Wonder' by Susan Enan. If you watch the show _Bones_ it's used several times there. Anyway, good song, you should check it out.

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**Chapter Fourteen**

*******

_April, 2004_

The weeks crawled by, and soon a month had passed since Gabrielle's death. Ginny was uneasy. She stood by her belief that Death Eaters had not killed Gabrielle outright, but she had not forgotten Malfoy's heated words either—_She's dead because she helped me, all right? Because she helped us out, Weasley, because we set the Death Eaters on her trail months ago_—and she could not keep herself from wondering whether this were true. Whether Gabrielle had taken that potion because the Death Eaters were after her, and if she had indeed first garnered their suspicions about her months ago, when she helped them escape the hospital in Paris.

Sleep became elusive for Ginny. She lay awake for hours before she finally drifted away, and even then, her dreams were dark and troubled. She never woke feeling rested. As time went on, her dreams grew worse. They were fragmented, vivid, but never clear, never whole. Flashes of terrible scenes, bloody scenes, scenes of death and chaos filled her mind, but when she woke, she could never piece together any of it into something coherent. They were just dreams, so there really wasn't any reason she should be able to, yet something about these dreams gnawed at her. Something she couldn't quite put her finger on.

It was a late afternoon in April when Ginny finally put some sense to her dreams. The day had been unseasonably warm, but blustery, and she had been out to enjoy it with Will for most of the day. Once they were home, they retired to the drawing room, where Ginny put Will into his playpen for a nap, and then promptly fell into an armchair herself, thoroughly exhausted. As she drifted off to sleep, she remembered to call for Nuly, and asked the house elf to remain in the room, keeping watch after the sleeping baby, while she slept.

Her sleep was, even in only an afternoon nap, uneasy. At some point, she drifted lazily awake and found that someone had covered her with a blanket, which was a mercy; the room had grown cold. She turned around in the armchair and saw that Malfoy was home. He was sitting on the sofa further along in the room, with Will, who was now awake. Malfoy glanced over at her, and their eyes locked for a moment before Ginny turned away and drifted back into her fitful sleep.

_She was running down a never-ending flight of stairs, going round and round and round; she couldn't seem to reach the bottom. Someone was running with her, just ahead of her, a step out of her sight. She couldn't seem to catch up. This frustrating image blurred in and out of focus, and someone was screaming, a high-pitched, keening wail that wouldn't stop. She tried to shut it out, to make it stop, but it only wailed on the louder._

Flashes of another scene invaded her mind, warring with the long flight of stairs, a bloody scene, a frightening scene that she couldn't quite seem to get a full picture of. A room, with blood on the carpet, and maybe a body—

She was back on the stairs, running and running, trying to catch up to whoever was ahead of her. Someone was shouting, or perhaps several people, and jets of red and green light ricocheted off the banister, missing her by inches. And then the screaming started in again, that keening wail, going on and on and on, and Ginny just wished it would stop—

And then her running came to an abrupt halt, and as the wailing grew louder, louder, louder, a face was suddenly before her, throw in sharp relief.

Malfoy.

Ginny jerked awake suddenly, her eyes flying open. She glanced around, not quite sure where she was, uncertain of her surroundings. "What's that noise?" she demanded.

"What noise? I don't hear anything."

Ginny glanced around sharply. Malfoy was still sitting in the sofa across the room, with Will in his lap. She suddenly remembered—they were in the drawing room, she'd been taking a nap in the armchair. Frowning, she glanced around again; that keening scream was still echoing in her ears, as though she could still hear it. "Someone was screaming," she murmured.

"You were dreaming, Weasley," Malfoy drawled. "No one's screaming. A nightmare, I'd say."

"That's all I ever have lately." Pulling the blanket around her, she straightened, sitting up from her slumped position in the armchair. She ran an absent hand over her hair, smoothing it down, still frowning as she glanced around. She blinked sleepily as Malfoy got to his feet, carrying Will out of the room. "Is dinner set yet?"

"It's still early," came Malfoy's reply, as he left the room.

With a heavy sigh, Ginny settled more comfortably down in the armchair, shutting her eyes briefly. Images swam before her, running round a staircase, a bloody room. Malfoy's face. Shaking her head, she opened her eyes irritably. What was _wrong_ with her?

Her eyes fell on the day's paper, which Malfoy had left in the armchair opposite her, probably sometime this morning. Her eyes ran over the date, and she flinched unwillingly. Ah. She had known the day was coming up. She hadn't realized it was today.

About an hour later, she wandered into the dining hall, still distracted and somewhat bleary-eyed. Malfoy was already eating, as was Will, who was apparently having fun dropping lots of his food on the floor. Malfoy pointedly ignored this, which Ginny wasn't sure was a very good tactic, but as tired as she was, she said nothing, simply slipping into her seat.

"Do you know what day it is?" she asked abruptly.

Malfoy paused with his food halfway to his mouth. Will looked around at with interest. "Uh. Friday?" Malfoy shrugged.

"It's the thirteenth of April," Ginny said dully, as she reached for the mashed potatoes. When Malfoy only showed her a blank stare, she added, "The battle at Hogsmeade happened today. Six years ago today."

"So?"

Ginny settled her gaze on Malfoy, glaring. "What do you mean, 'so'?"

"So it's not like it's some big anniversary or something," Malfoy said dryly. "It shouldn't be any big deal for you. I mean, Blaise didn't even really die that day, did he? So what's the big deal?"

Ginny stared at him incredulously, bitter anger mounting within her. How _dare_ he mention Blaise like that? He knew it was touchy subject for her. And anyway, he was completely missing the point. "My brother Percy died that day," she said icily. "He died saving my life. He took a Killing Curse for me."

"Oh." Malfoy shrugged. "I didn't know that."

"And I lost a lot of other friends that day too," she went on, her tone still frosty. "A lot of friends. A lot of good people died that day. Snape died that day," she added.

At this, Malfoy finally glanced up, and his gaze was stony. "So?"

"So he was your friend, wasn't he?"

"He was a teacher at school," Malfoy said shortly. He returned his attention to his plate of food. "And another Death Eater. That's all he was to me."

"He kept you in hiding for almost a year! He kept you safe!"

"Well, it was no picnic in the park, Weasley," Malfoy said snidely, "and being in hiding only solidified the rest of the Death Eaters against me, solidified the Dark Lord against me. If I'd gone to him in the beginning, I might not be in the predicament I'm in now."

"You'd still be a Death Eater," Ginny said dryly. "Is that what you want?"

Malfoy shot her a nasty look but didn't bother with a reply.

"Anyway, I'm sure you know other people who died that day," she pressed.

"Even if I did, _so what_, Weasley?" Malfoy put down his fork with some exasperation.

"So those people deserve to be remembered!"

"Look, you said it, all right? It happened today, _six years ago_ today. Six years." Malfoy shook his head, picking up his fork again. "Get over it already."

Ginny dropped her own fork, and it clattered onto her mostly still empty plate. "Get over it? _Get over_ it? I have, not that that's any of your business, and that's not the point, Malfoy. This isn't about me. It's about remembering people who died in battle, who deserve to be remembered."

"If it were about that, I would understand," Malfoy said flatly. "I still wouldn't give a damn, but I would understand. But that's where you're wrong, Weasley. It _is_ about you. It's about how you can never seem to let go of anyone, or anything. You think you've moved on, but you haven't. You don't seem to know how."

Ginny stared at him in consternation, in mounting anger and shock. "I haven't moved on? Me? You're the one who doesn't deal with anything, who—who—I don't know, drinks a bottle of Firewhiskey and then says, right, well, on with my life!"

Malfoy raised his gaze to hers, and his eyes were dark, glittering with malice. She knew she'd touched a nerve, alluding to the night Gabrielle had died. "I do deal. I do get on with my life. You're the one who doesn't. You couldn't get it through your thick head that Blaise was dead until Bellatrix proved it to you—"

Ginny sucked in a sharp breath. She felt as though she'd been punched in the gut.

"—and you still won't accept that your other brother, what's-his-name, Potter's sidekick, is dead."

"He is not." Without meaning to, Ginny pushed her chair back and got to her feet. Her words came out quietly, but she was barely holding her anger in check, breathing heavily as though she'd just run many miles.

"What, so he's just gone, then? Just left, just like that, with no word for you or the rest of your family?" Malfoy snorted. "Bloody decent of him."

"He might've finally gone into hiding!" And now she was shouting, now she couldn't hold it in. Will looked over at her with wide eyes, but she barely noticed. "Considering how the Death Eaters were targeting him, it was about time! He might've gone after Harry, he might've gone to find him! And for all I know that's why Hermione's gone, Ron might've got word to her and she's gone to join them as well—"

"That's what it comes back to, isn't it?" Malfoy spat. "Potter. Bloody Saint Potter."

Ginny stopped short. "What do you mean?"

Malfoy waved a disgusted hand. "You're still hung up on him."

Ginny's jaw dropped open in true shock. "I—what? _What?_ Do you actually believe that?"

"Well, if the shoe fits—"

"I gave up on Harry a long time ago," she said, practically shaking with barely suppressed rage. "He left me. Supposedly to keep me safe, supposedly because he couldn't let anyone get close to him, but then, Ron and Hermione got to tag along with him. As always."

"And you really believe the three of them are all off together now?" Malfoy said, a sardonic ring to his voice.

Ginny didn't answer him. She was sick of his sarcastic comments, and too tired to argue with him anymore. Throwing her napkin on the table, she turned on her heel. "I'm going for a walk."

"You're what?"

"I'm _going_ for a _walk_," she shouted from out in the corridor. She heard Malfoy calling after her, something about needing to run an errand and she had to watch Will, but she ignored him, picking up pace as she headed for the back of the manor. She flew down the corridor and went outside, past the east terrace and the conservatory. The sun was setting, just beginning to sink below the horizon in a great, orange glow, but on this side of the manor, darkness was already beginning to settle in.

The air was damp, ready to rain, but Ginny didn't care. She wasn't paying enough attention to care. She just kept going, not sure of any particular destination. All she knew was that her blood was boiling, that Malfoy was a right git who obviously didn't understand anything about her, and that all of this frustration was fueled by lack of proper sleep.

Those vague, gruesome images still flashed before her every time she closed her eyes. Ginny stumbled slightly as she headed into the brambly woods on the edge of the property, past the stables, past the gardens. A light drizzle began to fall as she retreated into the shade of the trees, but she barely felt it, no longer out in the open.

The evening grew darker as she marched steadily through the bramble, her eyes narrowed and her mouth set in a firm, thin line. What did he think he knew about her, anyway? All that about not moving on, not letting go. Where had that come from? He didn't know anything about her, and he'd done nothing but prove that with those words.

Once she was deep in the thick woods, she came to a sudden halt, pressing her hands over her eyes. What was she doing here? Not just here, outside, in these words, in the near darkness, in the rain which was beginning to fall harder and steadier, but _here_, at Malfoy Manor? What was she doing with her life? Without realizing it, without meaning to, she'd isolated herself from everyone, her allies, her friends, even most of her family. She had no one but Malfoy for company, and that, she reasoned, was slowly driving her mad. It had to be.

She turned around slowly, calm enough now that, for the first time, she took in her surroundings. It was almost completely dark now, the sun nearly gone from the sky, and the rain was falling in a constant onslaught. She shivered, realizing how cold the evening was without the sun's rays to warm it. And here she was, standing in the middle of the woods, without any idea as to where she was.

Slowly, unsure, she began to trudge back in the general direction she'd been coming from. The ground was muddy beneath her feet, and she stepped uncertainly, trying to keep from slipping. After going for about ten minutes, she stopped with a sigh. Pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration, she shut her eyes.

_A bloody room—running and running and running—screaming, wailing—_

Her eyes flew open. She shook her head, trying to get those images out of her mind, but they wouldn't go. It was like they were burned into the back of her eyelids, forever haunting her, taunting her with some knowledge they held, some knowledge she couldn't quite grasp. Ginny took a few unsteady steps forward, but now the keening wail was filling her ears again, filling her mind until she couldn't block it out, and as she squeezed her eyes shut again, images flashed before her, snatches of memories—

Memories?

Ginny cursed suddenly as her muddy shoes slipped on an upturned root and she went down to one knee, her eyes watering with pain. Her ankle had twisted. The rain continued to pour down, soaking her right through, plastering her hair to her face, and now she was stuck in it. She tried to wobble to her feet, but her ankle protested and she fell back again, coming to sit against the very root she'd slipped on.

She hadn't brought her wand out with her, so she had no way to try and mend the ankle. She also had no idea where she was going, for that matter. She thought she was headed back towards the manor, but surely she would've reached it by now, if that were true. She wasn't sure. She didn't know how long she'd walked into the woods before she'd regained her senses and turned back.

Heaving a great sigh, she sat back, closing her eyes. The same images washed over her, and this time, Ginny let them. Awake, she sank back into her hazy, troubled dreams, allowed herself to run in circles down that staircase, tried to get a better picture of that bloody room. Because she knew, now. She wasn't just dreaming.

She was remembering.

"Weasley! Oi, Weasley, where are you?"

Ginny's eyes flew open. She didn't know how long she'd been sitting there, but she found herself trembling uncontrollably, frozen to the bone. Her fingers were still wrapped around her injured ankle, but they'd gone numb, wet and icy.

"Weasley! Where are—oh."

Malfoy suddenly stumbled into sight, almost as soaked as she was, though he'd thought to pull a cloak on before going out in this downpour. Ginny squinted up at him through the rain, blinking past the wetness on her cheeks.

"Weasley." Malfoy staggered forward, staring down at her. "What—are you doing—sitting out here? Have you gone completely off your rocker?"

Ginny barely heard him. She was so cold, and still so immersed in her long-forgotten memories, still coming back to her slowly, in snatches and pieces. She felt stuck, in a place between the present and that day at the Ministry, that day the Ministry was attacked.

"Weasley—" She gasped as Malfoy grabbed her by the shoulders and hauled her to her feet. He'd pulled her up so quickly and forcefully that she found her face only inches from his, and for a moment, they only stared at each other. Then he let go of her, and Ginny nearly fell over. With a yelp of pain, she grabbed onto his sleeve, in an attempt to keep from pitching over completely and landing flat on her face.

Malfoy half-caught her as she grabbed hold of him. "What's wrong with you?"

"I—hurt my—my ankle," she managed to get out, between her chattering teeth. "Can't—walk."

"And you don't have your wand, of course," he drawled.

"Do you?" she asked vaguely.

"Well—no," he admitted. "Actually, I forgot—oh, sod it, Weasley. The manor's not far from here." And then, before she could protest, he swung her around, lifting her easily into his arms. As it was, she didn't even think of protesting. She was warm against his chest, and almost immediately, she felt her eyes drooping shut as he turned and started back towards the manor, his pace a steady, lulling rhythm.

_This time, there were no snatches of bloody rooms, no blurry scenes of running down stairs. She was running, but not for long. She came to a halt at a landing. Whoever was running ahead of her kept going, but now, for the first time, she realized there was someone behind her. It was Malfoy. He came to a halt as she did, and she glanced at him over her shoulder. "Decided to join the blood traitors after all, Malfoy?"…._

…"You told me you didn't remember anything about that night!…That night, when you were ill at my house! You told me, the week after; you said you didn't remember anything!"…

Ginny started awake as she was dropped, none-too-gently, into something hard and white. She blinked her eyes open as Malfoy twisted something behind her head, and then warmth spilled down her back. It was a few minutes before her eyes adjusted to the bright glare of the lighting in the room, and only then did she realize where she was. She was in a very large, very ornate bathroom. The counters were dazzling, polished, and a number of pleasant scents filled her nostrils.

She realized, then, that Malfoy had dumped her into a bathtub, and turned the water on, before leaving the room, apparently. He was nowhere to be seen now.

Ginny shivered as her skin let the warm water seep in. She was so cold and caked with mud that she could barely move, and it wasn't until the water had been running for a while that she was able to strip off her clothes, piece by piece. Once she did, she turned around in the tub, rinsing all the mud off of her, before stopping up the tub and letting it fill with deliciously warm water.

Once it was full, she leaned her head back and simply let herself soak. Her ankle was still sore, but clearly mended. Malfoy must have done that while she was still asleep.

_Malfoy_. Ginny shut her eyes, letting herself fall back into the memory she'd been dreaming of. Surprisingly, she found it easy, the rest of that scene coming to her mind at her own bidding, like any other memory.

_"The sixth level." Malfoy glanced over his shoulder. "It's the Department of Magical Transport. They have the Portkey Office, they'll have Portkeys we can activate, and probably emergency ones as well—"_

"Malfoy." Ginny sighed, stepping up to face him directly. "If you want to try and Portkey out, then fine. I think it's a bit risky, but you can do what you want." Really, had he heard nothing she'd said before? "Just…remember what I said. About the baby."

"Wait." Ginny stumbled as Malfoy grabbed her from behind, latching onto her wrist and spinning her around. "Look, if what Granger says is true, and the Death Eaters are attacking the odd-numbered floors from this side, then level seven will be swarming with Death Eaters. You'll never make it."

A streak of defiance flashed through Ginny. She didn't need his negativity right now. "Well, I have to try." She had to. She had to get to Ron.

"Why? Weasley, you're just going to get yourself killed! Look, just forget about all that, just come back up here with me and we can Portkey out!"

Indignation warred with surprised appreciation within Ginny. She was not going to get herself killed, she had to get to Ron! And yet…she could not help but think it. Was Malfoy actually concerned about her? Indignation won out, however. "You want me to run away and go with you?" Ginny shook her head. "Malfoy, I can't! I won't! Ron could be hurt, and so could dozens of other people. I can't just run out of here and leave—"…

…"Avada Kedavra!"

The Killing Curse, shot from above, hit the steps below her and blasted them apart. And now there was only blinding green light, and Malfoy, still holding onto her wrist with a vice-like grip. Gravity pulled Ginny backwards, she was going to fall, and Malfoy was the only thing keeping her from plunging down; his tenuous hold on her was her only hope. She locked eyes with him, as though she could lock herself onto him just as easily.

But it wasn't enough, and then she was falling, falling—

Ginny opened her eyes, slowly bringing herself out of the memory and back to the present. So. For some reason, somehow, a piece of that day had come back to her. She cast her mind around, but there was nothing else. She could remember nothing before that particular memory on the staircase; she couldn't remember how the attack had started. And she couldn't remember anything after it. She knew that fall had rendered her unconscious, but she didn't remember waking up, or anything that happened after she woke up. She could only assume that after that, she must have found Carina, and Will, but she still drew a blank in regards to those events.

She sighed, gently stretching out her legs in the bathtub. This memory changed things somehow, but it was a subtle change, almost imperceptible. Ginny couldn't put words to it. Malfoy remembered that night, that night she'd been over at the manor, that night they'd kissed, in Ginny's feverish delusion. Of course, she knew this; there was no reason he shouldn't have remembered that night, but this was different. He'd mentioned it, he'd thought of it.

And he'd wanted her to come with him, when he tried to escape out of the Ministry. Why? Ginny liked to think there was something between them now, maybe not quite a friendship, but something like it. She wouldn't be surprised, now, if she were in a dangerous situation and he wanted to get her out of it. But back at the Ministry, back before Will was born—there had been nothing between them, then. Yet Malfoy had been concerned about her, had wanted to help her. Why?

It stirred something within Ginny, something she'd buried down deep inside herself, something she'd fought back every time it tried to show itself. She'd always seen Malfoy as little better than scum, a despicable person, with an ignorant obsession with the Dark Arts, an obsession that had brought about the death of Dumbledore, brought about violence and sorrow for so many people. But her perception of him changed, that night she'd come over to the manor, that night she'd gotten sick and kissed Malfoy because of it. She liked to think it was only because she'd found out what he'd done for his baby, that he'd given him up to keep him safe, but it wasn't only because of that.

Ginny sank down into her bathwater, submerging half of her face, all but her eyes. She came up to breathe a second later, her mind wandering back to the argument she'd had with Malfoy at dinner. His words rang in her ears. _You can never seem to let go of anyone, or anything. You think you've moved on, but you haven't. You don't seem to know how._

She'd told herself he was wrong, that this was utter nonsense, purely on the basis that it was Malfoy who'd said it, and, well—he was _Malfoy_, a right evil git. But she didn't really believe that anymore, she'd told her family as much. And what if he was right?

She'd held onto the idea that Blaise could be alive for as long as she could, far past the point that it hardly seemed likely. She'd held on to it until Bellatrix had told her it was not so. And she'd accepted it then, but had she felt it? Had she allowed herself to really, truly feel it? To feel what that meant, to dwell on the idea that he was dead, and gone, and not coming back. To dwell on the idea that she would never, could never, see him, ever again? Had she done that, really?

She dwelled on it now. She dwelled on it until tears pricked her eyes. She examined every memory she had of Blaise as closely as she could, she thought of his rare but beautiful smile, she thought of the day she'd first talked with him, really talked with him, the day she'd first kissed him, the day she'd let him in enough to comfort her. He'd been such a refuge during that horrible time at Hogwarts, and even though her life returned to normal after that year, after the battle at Hogsmeade, with Blaise gone, she'd felt bereft of security. She'd continued to feel threatened, unsafe.

But he really was gone now, forever. She let that wash over her, let every feeling that arose from that sink in. And it was terrifying. He, her anchor to something safe, was gone. Harry, the hope for the world, was gone. Ron and Hermione were gone, maybe with him, maybe not. Her parents couldn't comfort her anymore, she was long past that.

There was only Malfoy. Slowly, grudgingly, she let go of her old perceptions of him. Slowly, reluctantly, she allowed that feeling—that feeling she'd buried deep within herself—to resurface.

They were all gone, all those people who had been a source of comfort and stability and happiness to her. Malfoy wasn't.

And if she was honest with herself, she knew he was a source of all those things too. That he had been, once, that one time in her life.

The bathwater had gone tepid, so Ginny stood carefully, looking around for a towel. Malfoy had left one out for her, and after she'd dried herself off, she went out into the adjoining bedroom and found one of the house elves had brought her pajamas, leaving them neatly folded on the bed. As she got dressed, Ginny glanced around and realized she had no idea where she was. This was not her bedroom, her bathroom. Neither did it appear to be Malfoy's, as he was nowhere to be seen, and the room didn't really seem to be occupied by anyone, at the moment; there were no belongings, no clothes.

Snugly dressed in her pajamas, Ginny left the room and stepped out into the corridor and found Tasher waiting for her. "Master Malfoy is in the drawing room, Miss. He asks that you join him."

Ginny blinked. "He does?"

Tasher led her to the ground floor, for which Ginny was grateful, because she was unfamiliar with this part of the manor. In the drawing room, Malfoy was sitting on the sofa again, dressed in clean day clothes, with a large book open in his lap. He glanced up only absently when Ginny came in and sat down on the other end of the sofa. After staring at him for a moment, he glanced up.

"Did you want something?" he asked, a faint trace of irritation in his words.

Ginny blinked. "Tasher said you wanted to talk to me about something."

"I did?" Malfoy only turned her a blank look.

"Or, well," Ginny amended, "he said 'Master Malfoy asks that you join him.'"

Malfoy still looked faintly puzzled, but he shrugged and turned his attention back to his book. "Hmm. I guess I might've said something to that effect."

Ginny stared at him incredulously. "Erm…why?"

"I dunno." Malfoy did not look up from his book, his brow furrowed in concentration. "I guess I felt like company."

Slightly mollified, Ginny sat back against the sofa, settling in more comfortably. She was still a little baffled by his answer, but as it happened, she was in the mood for company as well. More specifically, she was in the mood for Malfoy's company.

That did not, however, mean she was in the mood to talk. Malfoy seemed entirely engrossed in his book, and Ginny was still very sleepy. They sat in silence for a few minutes before she let her eyes fall shut, and she drifted into dreams once again. And, once again, her dreams were of all-but forgotten memories.

_…Malfoy was slumped at the base of an armchair, unconscious, or maybe even dead, for all she knew. No, no, he was breathing, she realized, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest, though a thin line of blood trickled down his forehead from a gash somewhere amidst his matted hair…._

…his words dissolved into silence, and the scorn in his expression faded and died. With his gaze fixed on the baby, his eyebrow hitched as though he'd noticed something odd. Ginny watched with bated breath as an incredulous fear stole through his eyes, lit with a sort of fierce compassion that seemed both natural and out of place at the same time….

…mere exchange of hands was almost too much for Ginny to take, held together by an intimacy that was near unbearable. Fingers brushing fingers, a hand lingering on his wrist, a hint of a touch burning her skin. Questioning whispers and reassuring murmurs, blending together in a muted hum of voices. With a final, "...watch his head," Ginny leaned back, hastily putting some distance between them again….

…Ginny simply waited, while Malfoy stared at her, his expression unreadable. Then, without warning, he suddenly blinked, and a tear spilled down his cheek. She was quite startled as another tear fell, streaking his face. His expression remained hard and unchanged, and his eyes held her fast, completely unruffled by her gaping stare….

…"His name is Will!"…

…"I won't let anything happen to him. I promise, Malfoy."…

When Ginny finally woke, perhaps no more than an hour or so later, it was complete. Everything had come back to her, everything about that day—well. Almost everything. It was like a revelation, and even though Ginny felt a streak of awe running through her, she didn't immediately voice her thoughts aloud. She needed to process this.

"Whose room was that?" she asked instead, her voice absent as she reflected on her regained memories. "Where I took a bath, I mean? Just now?"

Malfoy only spared her a cursory glance. "Those were my mother's rooms."

Ginny nodded, distracted, before jerking around to face him, her eyes widening as she realized what he'd said. "Your mother's?"

"Mm-hmm."

"But then, didn't she sleep—" Ginny broke off abruptly, realizing how awkward and rude that question would sound. Malfoy, however, glanced up with amusement in his eyes, apparently having guessed what she was going to say.

"My parents slept in the same bed, if that's what you're wondering," he drawled. "In the master bedroom, of course. But my mother still had her own set of rooms, to do with as she pleased."

"Oh." Ginny frowned. Her own _rooms?_ Including a bedroom that she probably never used. Really, living at Malfoy Manor as long as she had now, she knew she shouldn't be surprised by the lavishness of the place. But sometimes, she still was. She couldn't help it. "Do you sleep in the master bedroom now?"

Malfoy nodded, frowning as his eyes passed over a particularly long passage in his book

"But—your father could—" Again, she broke off, fearing she'd said too much, and, again, Malfoy finished her thought for her.

"My father's been gone long enough," he said, his voice a little constricted. Still, he didn't seem upset by her question. "If he ever comes back, I'll move back to my old rooms."

Ginny nodded thoughtfully. Silence fell between them for the next several minutes, Ginny left to her own thoughts and Malfoy still absorbed in his reading. Then, Ginny turned to face him, eyeing him pensively for a few seconds, before speaking. "I remember now."

"Remember what?"

"I remember that day at the Ministry. When Will was born."

Malfoy almost dropped his book, glancing up with a startled expression in his eyes. "You do? Since when? You remember _everything?_"

"Well—" Ginny hedged. "Walking into Ron's office for the first time…finding Carina. That part is still—" She shook her head. "I can't get a clear picture. I remember running to his office, but then—" She shrugged helplessly. "The next thing I remember, for sure, is finding Will, tucked beneath my brother's desk."

Malfoy eyed her for a moment, his expression unreadable. "Maybe it's too horrible. You were sick up, when you told me about finding her. How you found her."

Ginny nodded. She'd suspected that might be the reason behind it. The idea that she couldn't remember something because it was too traumatic seemed ridiculous; she'd seen so many horrible things in her life. But that had been Gabrielle's theory as well, and Ginny supposed she'd been right all along. "That's what—that's what Gabrielle thought, too. That I'd repressed it, I mean. Because it was too horrible."

Malfoy's jaw tightened at the mention of Gabrielle, but he said nothing. Ginny met his gaze, and for a moment, she knew they were both thinking of the same thing, of that night after Gabrielle had died, when Malfoy had shouted and cried with her. Then Malfoy glanced away, his eyes roving over the page of his book, without seeming to really read it. "Are you glad?" he asked, sounding almost disinterested. "That you remember?"

"I suppose so." Ginny shrugged.

Malfoy grunted intelligibly in response, and returned to his reading. Ginny watched him for a moment, mulling over all the things she'd remembered, the things Malfoy had said, had done. She opened her mouth once, then closed it, opened it, and closed it again. She had to start somewhere. She wasn't sure how.

"I remember—" Malfoy glanced over at her as she spoke again "—running down those stairs, trying to get to the seventh level. But you wanted to stop at the sixth, to try and get a Portkey out. You—" Ginny hesitated. "You wanted me to come with you."

Malfoy stared at her, but the expression in his eyes was inscrutable. Then he shrugged. "You lot saved my life, after I took that Stunning Spell for Granger. We were sort of all in it together, weren't we?"

Ginny nodded slowly. "I suppose so." She narrowed her eyes. "You didn't say anything about Hermione coming with us, though."

"And why should I ever think that she was worth the effort?" he asked airily.

Ginny knew she shouldn't, but she laughed. Then she went serious, very suddenly. "You thought I was worth the effort, then?"

The smirk vanished from Malfoy's face. After a beat, he said, "I guess so."

This time, instead of Malfoy dropping his gaze, returning to his reading, Ginny glanced away, her eyes falling to her lap. "And I remember," she went on, "giving Will over to you." She chanced a quick look at him. "I remember realizing that you could be trusted with him. Then I knew he'd be safe with you."

A flicker of surprise passed over Malfoy's face, but when he spoke, his voice was snooty. "As I've said before," he said, his tone faintly mocking, "that wasn't for you to decide, anyway."

Ginny threw him a sour look, but she smiled wryly, too. "And then I remember…leaving with him. Running from Death Eaters. Trying to get out." She shrugged. "And I did, I suppose. I just didn't end up in the right place."

"Requiring me to come save your sorry arse," Malfoy muttered, his gaze wandering back to his book.

Silence fell between them again, reigning for several minutes. Ginny mulled over her thoughts, reflecting over the breakthroughs she'd processed while she was in her bath.

"You were right, you know," she said, breaking the silence suddenly. Her voice was quiet, and somehow deep, as though she could barely get the words past the lump in her throat. When he looked at her, she clarified, "What you said, at dinner. About me…not moving on," she finished, studying her nails.

She didn't dare glance up at Malfoy; it was bad enough that she could feel his gaze, weighing on her. She expected him to gloat, to make some petty jibe, but all he said was, "Oh?"

Ginny threw him a quick glance. "I held onto the idea that Blaise could be alive for…more than five years." She tried to laugh, but the sound caught in her throat. "Which is just ridiculous. The Death Eaters would have no reason to keep him alive that long. And he had no reason to go into hiding." She shrugged glumly. "There was no reason for him to be missing for so long, if he were still alive."

"About time you figured that out," Malfoy said, but his words lacked their usual malice. Still, Ginny shot him a glare from beneath her eyelashes. She still didn't dare look him full in the face.

"And," she said, glancing up, "it sucks. It really, really sucks." She blew out a hard breath, clearing a stray hair from her face. "It hurts." She bit her lip. "But it's the truth, and I know that now."

She finally dared to look over at Malfoy, more than just a fleeting glance, and found him staring at her with the most peculiar expression on his face. It was that same choked expression he'd worn that day he found her in his mother's parlor, playing with Will on the floor. Even when she met his gaze, frowning a little, he didn't look away, or attempt to mask his expression.

"I'm sorry," he said finally. "I know it sucks. Losing someone."

Reminded by that choked expression, she thought of his mother as he spoke these words, and a flash of sympathy burned through her, mingling with her own pain for Blaise, and the others she'd lost. It was almost too much, and she tore her gaze from him, as though in fear of erupting in a tumult of emotion if she gazed at him for too long.

When she felt composed enough to look over at him again, he was no longer looking at her, but neither had he returned to his book. Instead, he was staring at something in the distance, over her head, his brow furrowed, his eyes troubled. She pursed her lips, hesitating, and then said,

"I realized something else, too. Well. Something I already knew."

He started, as though she'd surprised him. "What's that?" he asked, his eyes wandering back to her.

She swallowed. "I remember—" A second's hesitation, and then she plunged in "—that night, here, in your house. In this room." She glanced down at where she was sitting, where they were sitting. "On this sofa."

His gaze sharpened. "What are you talking about?"

"I remember that night that I came here," she said, surprised by how clear and calm her voice sounded, "that day that I'd lost my job, as an Auror. That night that I came here, and fell ill, because I'd missed one of my potions."

Malfoy went absolutely still. He didn't say a word.

Ginny forced herself to look at him. In an achingly quiet tone, she said, "I remember…kissing you."

Malfoy stared at her. There was shock in his eyes. When he spoke, his reaction was not quite what she'd thought it would be. "Why haven't you said anything?" he demanded.

A surge of indignation flashed through her. "Why haven't you?" she snapped. Her voice softened. "You didn't have any reason to forget."

Malfoy didn't say anything. His expression was strangled, something else warring with the shock in his eyes. Something almost not quite like denial, but a little more than disbelief.

"I thought…I thought, maybe, that I had imagined the whole thing." Ginny tried to laugh, but it came out hoarsely. "At first. I certainly imagined something," she murmured, more to herself than for him.

"That's why I never said anything," he said, and his voice was hoarse too, but laced with irritation.

"Why?" She glanced up in confusion.

"Because you thought I was…Blaise." He made a dismissive notion with his hand, and a small noise indicative of annoyance. "Didn't you?" He shook his head. "There was nothing to say. It—it wasn't between us."

Ginny swallowed a protest, a little afraid to say anything outright, so boldly. "I…at first, yes. I thought you were Blaise."

"At first?" he echoed sharply.

She looked over at him, and she thought she saw—or was she imagining it?—a morsel of hope in his expression. "I mean…when you came in the room. And when—" Her voice caught, and she cleared her throat. "When I kissed you," she forced out, trying to keep her voice from trembling. "But then—" She broke off, biting her tongue.

Malfoy's voice was sober. "Then what?" he demanded.

"Then—" Ginny sucked in a breath, closing her eyes. "At some point, it—changed. At some point—" She let her brought out shakily "—I knew it was you. Before—before I saw you, I mean."

When there was no response, she opened her eyes and looked at him. His eyes were dark, dark with something she couldn't fathom, as he stared at her. "Why are you telling me this, Weasley?"

Ginny's lips twisted. Taking a deep breath, she said, "You—stopped." She paused, trying to cement her muddled thoughts into words, without saying more than she wanted to. "You were…kissing me…but then you stopped it." She raised her eyes to his, hoping he could see the question there.

Now his mouth twisted bitterly. "You thought I was Blaise. It wasn't…right."

A hint of a wry smile touched Ginny's lips. "Morality, Malfoy?"

"You thought you were kissing Blaise," he said bluntly. "As far as I was concerned, to you, you weren't kissing me." His eyes hardened. "And I'm not going to kiss someone who doesn't want it to be me kissing them."

Ginny bit her lip, hard. A flicker of compassion surged through her. "What if—you had known, then? That I…" She swallowed. "That I realized it was you?"

He looked at her sharply. He paused, for what seemed a very long time to Ginny, before he said, "That's up to you, isn't it?"

Ginny's instinct was to break her gaze with him, but she forced herself to keep her eyes on his face, taking in everything he was saying with his eyes, everything unspoken, communicated through his expression.

"Why didn't you stop, then?" Malfoy asked abruptly. His eyebrow twitched, as though he, too, was forcing himself to look her in the eye. "If you realized I wasn't Blaise, why didn't you stop?"

Hours seemed to pass in a single second. "I…was hurting." Ginny could hear the helplessness, the ache in her own voice, but she couldn't suppress it any longer. "And for a moment, you made it stop. You…made me feel better."

She stared at Malfoy, and he at her, their eyes locked on one another. Ginny felt all her vulnerabilities welling up within her, forcing their way through, shining through her eyes. She didn't feel she could hide them from him anymore. What was more, she didn't want to. It was agonizing, in a way, like standing naked, exposed, but there was something incredibly relieving in it as well, as though she'd been carrying a deep secret and finally confided it in someone.

Malfoy's eyes were dark, but not in an angry or malevolent way. They were dark with something deeply intimate, something she thought she'd caught a glimpse of only once before, that day they'd kissed, in the single instant after he'd pulled away from her. Whether because she'd inched forward, or because he had, or perhaps because they both had, the distance between them had closed, and now there wasn't more than a hand's breadth between them.

This time, now, Ginny was conscious of herself as she leaned forward. She lifted a shaky hand and placed it against his chest, anchoring her. Malfoy's breath hitched in his throat as she touched him, as though her fingertips had burned through his oxford, right through to his skin. His own arms twitched, as though he was fighting to keep himself from reaching out to her as well.

"Weasley—" he said weakly, and Ginny didn't know or care if he was voicing a protest or an encouragement.

"Malfoy." Her voice was a breath more than a whisper. She closed her eyes briefly. Something seemed to be lodged in her throat, making her breathe unsteadily, but she forced the words out. "Make it stop hurting…just for a moment."

Her lips almost brushed his as she spoke, but she moved no further, leaving it up to him to make it happen. He seemed to hesitate for a second, only a second, and then he closed the hair's breadth of distance left between them and sealed his mouth over hers possessively.

Ginny lost herself completely in sensation, falling deep into a world that existed purely of visceral desire and free of reason. Malfoy's hands were wrapped around her shoulders, his grip firm and comforting all at once. His lips were crushing, bruising, against hers, and Ginny was surprised to find how pleasurable the force was. There was something breathtaking, mind-blowing about the dominance with which he kissed her. It wasn't gentle or soft, yet it consoled Ginny, chasing her grief and pain away.

Several long seconds passed, though they felt like golden eons to Ginny. Then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, the weight of Malfoy's lips against hers lightened. His grip on her shoulders relaxed slightly, and his hands slid down her arms, coming to rest in the crooks of her elbows, over her exposed skin. He brushed his lips over hers once, twice, barely a kiss, barely more than mere contact.

She opened her eyes and looked into his through a haze of punch-drunk pleasure. His eyes were just as glazed, the stormy grey lighter than she had ever seen before. "Better?" he asked.

Ginny nodded once, one hand still resting on his chest, the other curled around the back of his neck. But she only said, "Almost," and then she was leaning forward to press her lips against his once more, to drink in the feel of him more deeply.

She didn't know how much time passed, how long they spent on that sofa, lips exploring, hands roving, the world around them forgotten. All Ginny knew, when she finally came up for air, was that the fire, once blazing in the fireplace, had dwindled down to a few orange sparks, dying embers glowing faintly. Malfoy was slumped back in one corner of the sofa, his legs sprawled out before him, and Ginny all but sat in his lap, one hand on his shoulder, the other lingering at the side of his neck. His arm was curled lazily around her, still tangled in her hair.

"What time is it?" Ginny murmured, shooting the dying fire a frown.

"How should I bloody know?" Malfoy groused.

"I was only wondering how long it had been since either of us checked on Will."

Malfoy shifted beneath her, his body tensing for a moment before he relaxed again. "I had Nuly sit in with him," he told her. "She would've alerted us if he wasn't okay."

Ginny breathed in deeply. Malfoy's spicy cinnamon scent was all around her, still clouding up her senses. "Good," she said drowsily, her hand slipping away from his neck.

Malfoy glanced down at her through hooded eyes. The expression there was unreadable as he said, "Did it help?"

"Yes," she said simply. "It did."

His hand shifted in her hair, disentangling his fingers from it without removing his hand completely. "But only for that time."

"No." Ginny settled down more comfortably, into the sofa, against him. "Some of the pain is gone for good, I think."

They rested there, together, entirely relaxed and untroubled for several more minutes, for close to an hour, maybe. Then Malfoy rose to withdraw to his bedroom, and Ginny forced herself to her feet to go check on Will, before succumbing to the lure of her own soft, warm bed. And as she closed her eyes and drifted off that night, she felt, for the first time in six years, entirely safe and secure.

- - - - -

**Author's Notes:**

I just noticed that the past couple chapters, and Chapter Eleven (I think) have all been entirely from Ginny's POV. This should change, in the next chapter, although I _do_ consider this story to be more Ginny's story than Draco's. The sequel to this fic will, likewise, be more Draco's story than Ginny's. In terms of theme and emotional journeys, I mean. So there will be more of Draco's POV in the sequel.

In case you were confused, the flashbacks, or dreams, rather, that Ginny had were all scenes from earlier chapters, though one was originally from Draco's POV, and here it was from her POV.

I also wanted to say, to those of you who wished Ginny and Draco's relationship would move on more quickly, I hope you were happy with the kissing in this chapter! I try to keep them as in character as possible, which is why their relationship develops so slowly, I think. And just because they've kissed, don't expect them to treat each other much differently than they have in the next chapter!

And, lastly, I am going on vacation for about a week. I expect to get a lot of writing done, but I may not have access to the internet, so the next chapter might not be posted for another ten days or so.


	16. Chapter Fifteen

**Author's Notes:** Apologies about this chapter taking so long; I meant to have it posted a week ago! I always get anxious when I go longer than I meant to without posting, because I sometimes joke that my readers have abandonment issues, since I stopped writing this fic for about two and a half years.

I don't name my chapters, but if I did, this one would be called EPIC FORESHADOWING. Just about everything that happens in this chapter is foreshadowing something to come. I'll leave it to your to figure out what, exactly.

Anyway, for those of you who were excited about getting Draco's POV, this chapter is almost entirely from his POV. Except for a small bit at the end. So I hope you enjoy it. Oh, and those of you wanted a longer kissing scene…I think you'll find something you like in this chapter. *hint hint*

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**Chapter Fifteen**

*******

_June, 2004_

If there was one thing, Draco mused, that he and Ginny were good at, it was going on with their daily lives at Malfoy Manor as though nothing had changed between them.

Sometimes, Draco could convince himself that things really hadn't changed. He and Ginny still spent most of their time apart from each other, one or the other always with Will, the other left to his or her own devices. They didn't indulge in any more heavy conversations about each other's feelings, as they had that one, fateful night almost two months ago. On the surface, everything was same.

And yet, if he was really honest with himself, Draco had to admit that things had changed. For one thing, the hostility that had always been between them, for as long as he could remember, was virtually gone. It hadn't been that one night, that one kiss, that had done it alone; it had been gradually dissipating, but it wasn't until now that Draco realized it. Oh, he and Ginny still traded barbs all the time, but it was only out of a habit—a comfortable thing, really, rather than something that was done out of true anger. Usually.

And no longer did they really strive to avoid each other. It was not something Draco had ever consciously done, but he now realized that he had, and she had. If Ginny was in any particular room, either with Will or by herself, Draco found somewhere else to be. If they _had_ to be in the same room, such as at meal times, they rarely spoke. But this, too, had changed. In the evening and on weekends, Draco often found himself in the same room as Ginny—they didn't always speak to each other, but they often sat in comfortable silence, reading or thinking. And on _some_ occasions they did speak, though never of anything of consequence—more often than not, they ended up arguing over things like Quidditch, or recalling not-so-treasured memories of the few times they had crossed paths at Hogwarts.

And it was pleasant. And this, for Draco, was the real struggle. The issue wasn't whether things had really changed or not, it was trying to decide if he was okay with that change.

Truthfully, Draco had known, in the deepest recesses of his mind, in the thoughts he kept locked away, that something like this would happen, if Ginny moved in. He'd known it when he asked her to live with him, and in spite of the alarm bells ringing in his head, he'd gone ahead with the whole, wacky idea. For once, he'd pushed aside all the things he was supposed to follow and believe and remember, and instead, gave in to the dreadful, gaping hole that loneliness had created inside of him.

He'd spent a year living alone in the manor—though several of those last months were spent in France, and anyway, he had not been quite so alone once Will was born. But the months preceding that time had been agony. True, he had never been part of a particularly large family, the way Ginny was, but to lose both of his parents—one a fugitive, one as good as dead—in such a short time had been a terrible blow. And though she was completely unexpected, Ginny Weasley had somehow come into his life and eased the pain of that blow.

He couldn't quite figure it out. He was physically attracted to her; that much was obvious, though Draco had, in the past, tried to repress that attraction in the face of her being a Weasley, and a blood traitor besides. But those excuses now sounded feeble in his own mind, not because they weren't _true_, but because there was a larger truth that mattered more, and that was that Ginny was, in essence, a part of his own family now.

That realization unnerved him, and he'd struggled with it for some time. For Draco, for his entire life, his family had always been the most important thing in this world; his parents had drilled that value into him without even meaning to. And the idea of a Weasley as now a part of that family was ridiculous. But from the moment she walked into his house, weary and freezing, on Christmas Eve, he had begun considering her so, even though he had not realized it at the time. He had looked upon her, in that pitiable state, and instead of wearing her down even further, had brought her inside and endeavored to take care of her. She was a part of his home, one of the few people he had in his life. Someone he needed.

Although that idea unsettled him, he also had begun to realize why it was, perhaps, not such a detestable idea as he once might have thought. In his mind, Ginny had always been different. He would never have admitted it to himself, but even in school, he had not regarded her as quite as deplorable and repulsive as the others, as her brothers, as Potter, as that Mudblood, as the other Gryffindors. She was a different kind of creature, made better by her strength and resilience and spirit. She had demeaned herself, in Draco's eyes, by dating the likes of Potter, by hanging onto her brothers so firmly, but she herself was different. She was better.

And now that Potter was gone, now that she had all but severed ties with (most) of her family, she had, in Draco's eyes, reached her full potential. Not only that, but she was alone like him, and so she needed him as much as he needed her, and that was something Draco had never really experienced. For whatever reason, Ginny seemed to look past the faults she knew he had and managed to see other things, better things, and this awakened in Draco a powerful desire to live up to her expectations. To be the kind of person she could depend on, when she needed to.

And so, slowly, grudgingly, Draco made peace with all of these things, with the way things had changed in his household. An old part of him bleated feebly about how wrong this was, that he should send Ginny packing before he allowed her to become even closer to him, but he learned to ignore it, as the weeks passed by.

The cold but brightening spring began to blossom into a promising summer, though even the sun blazing outside couldn't brighten Draco's mood one late evening as he arrived home from work, a few hours later than he usually did. He entered the drawing room with an exhausted sigh, his briefcase in hand, and was met by a flurry of activity.

Ginny was across the room, speaking to Nuly, it appeared. Nuly's eyes widened when she saw Draco, and she hurried out of the room, just as Ginny turned about, just in time to grab a hold of Will, who had been sitting on the sofa and was attempting to crawl up onto the arm of the sofa.

"Will, _no_, get down from there—you'll fall—" Looking thoroughly exasperated, Ginny shot a harried glance after the house-elf who had scurried out of the room, before whirling about, her eyes falling on Draco. Draco raised an eyebrow, but before he could say anything, Ginny rushed forward to deposit Will, quite suddenly, in his arms.

"Here, take him a minute, will you, I've just got to…" The rest of her words were lost as she bustled out of the room, going the way Nuly had gone.

"Oy, Weasley!" he called after her, irritated. He dropped his briefcase so he could get a better hold on Will, who, in spite of looking delighted to see his father, was squirming every which way, in a struggle to get free to explore.

"You're just everywhere these days, aren't you?" Draco asked, wincing as Will playfully smacked him on the chest. "I hope you're not being too much of a handful. Don't go chasing Weasley off now."

Will did not seem to be paying attention. "Dada," he said happily.

In spite of his horrible day, Draco's lips twitched in something like a smile. "Well," he conceded, "I guess you can give her a _little_ bit of trouble. We are Malfoys, after all."

Will giggled.

A minute or so later, Ginny came back in, running her hands through her hair, though her expression was slightly more relaxed now. "Well, there's that taken care of," she muttered.

"There's what taken care of?" Draco demanded. He was now sitting on the sofa, with Will playing with a cushion beside him.

"Nothing," Ginny said innocently. "Just had to talk to Nuly about something, that's all."

Draco thought he must've still looked suspicious, because she suddenly changed tack, her eyes alighting on Will. "Oh, Malfoy, watch this!" she exclaimed, plucking Will off the sofa. She plopped down onto the floor with him, a few paces away from Draco. "Malfoy, sit on the floor."

"Sit on the _floor?_"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Will you just do it?"

Grunting in protest, Draco reluctantly slid onto the floor, his back resting against the sofa. "What are you on about, Weasley?" That mysterious business with Nuly slid out of his thoughts, as he was distracted by the excited, glowing expression on Ginny's face.

"Watch," she commanded. She stood Will up on his feet so that he was facing Draco, holding him from behind with one hand at his waist and the other beneath one of his arms. Will looked around at her, laughing gleefully, and Ginny laughed with him, as though the two of them were in on a secret together. "Are you ready, Will? Ready?" she asked him. She lifted one of her hands momentarily, pointing at Draco. "Look, look at your dad! Look, see him? See him?"

"Dada," Will echoed, looking around to beam at his dad.

"Go over to him," Ginny urged. Her grip on him loosened as she gently nudged him forward. "Go on, go! Go!"

And Draco watched, in amazement, as his son tottered over to him on unsteady legs. Draco held out his hands to catch Will in his arms as he reached him, the baby smiling with pride. Ginny laughed in delight, but Draco could only gape. "How long has this been going on?"

"A little while, actually," Ginny admitted. "Or, I think so, anyway. I don't know half of what he gets up to these days; I put him down for two seconds, and when I look around again, he's on the other side of the room, I swear. But I think he's been trying to walk the past couple weeks. I noticed a few days ago that if I put him down on his feet close to something he can grab on to, he would kind of stumble over there. It was only ever a step or two, though," she finished, her eyes shining, "so we've been practicing."

"And you're only just now showing me?" Draco said sourly.

"Well, you know, he's a Malfoy," Ginny said breezily, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "He didn't want to show you until he knew he could impress you."

Draco rolled his eyes at her. "I saw him try to stand up on his own last week, but he only fell over."

"Did he cry?"

"No." Draco shook his head ruefully. "He just laughed."

Ginny laughed at this. "That's so like him."

"It's unnatural, you know," Draco said to his son, his expression one of mock-seriousness. "Laughing all the time. Being so happy all the time."

"Only if you're you," Ginny said dryly. "Here, try to send him back over to me."

Draco helped Will begin his way back to Ginny with words of encouragement, then got slowly to his own feet once the baby was clear of him and close to Ginny. He looked down on them as Will caught Ginny's hands and stumbled into her. Ginny laughed and, of course, Will did too, the pair of them giggling together. Draco couldn't help it; he could feel a grin tugging at his lips, too. Then Will put his little hand on Ginny's chin, gave another giggle, and said, "Mama!"

Ginny froze, the laughter slipping off her face. Draco was still watching his gleeful son with a smile, and it was a few seconds later before he realized why Ginny had stiffened as she had, before he processed what Will had said.

He'd called Ginny his mother. Ginny looked up at Draco with a stricken, almost guilty expression, and she seemed to be waiting for him to say something. But Draco didn't know what to say. She was clearly upset, and in spite of himself, Draco didn't really understand why. So instead, he only stared at her impassively for a moment, before turning away to head out of the room. "I hope dinner's ready," he tossed over his shoulder. "I'm starving."

The house-elves did have dinner waiting for them, and Draco tucked in without waiting for Ginny or Will. Playing with Will had lifted his spirits, even if that had ended a bit awkwardly, but inevitably, his thoughts wandered back to his day at work, and some vestiges of his irritation returned. He was frowning over his food when Ginny finally came in and seated Will, filling a plate with food for the both of them.

His expression must have been darker than he realized, because after a few minutes of silence, Ginny shot him a knowing, yet questioning look. "Something wrong?" she asked pointedly.

Draco scowled, eyeing her for a moment before he replied. "Bad day at work," he groused.

Ginny raised an eyebrow at his lack of details, but, to his relief, she didn't ask him to elaborate. She merely said, "Oh. Well, that's too bad. Today of all days."

"What do you mean, 'today of all days'?" Draco frowned, bewildered. What was today? Something special? _Better not be another friend's death anniversary_, he thought sourly.

"Erm—" The look Ginny spared him was slightly incredulous, but she quickly said, "Nothing. Never mind."

After dinner, Ginny left to put Will to bed; it was a bit early, but he seemed a bit fussy and tired. Draco wandered off down to the kitchens for a cup of coffee. He could've asked one of the house-elves to bring him some, but Draco secretly liked the kitchens; there was something warm and inviting about them. When he was a child, he'd often been told off by his father for sneaking down there for some cookies or a late-night snack.

He leaned against a kitchen counter, in the far corner of the room, sipping at his coffee and mulling over the day's events. He did not want to think about work, though he felt as though he should; what had happened today had been troubling, if not entirely unexpected.

"Oh. Nuly told me you were here, but I thought she must be mistaken."

Draco blinked and glanced around, not having even noticed that Ginny had come into the room. She entered from the south corridor, the door swinging shut behind her. She looked vaguely surprised to see him. "Why?" he asked bluntly.

"Why what?"

"Why did you think she was mistaken?"

Ginny shrugged. She eyed the coffee pot for a moment, as though debating whether or not to have any herself, but then simply settled against the counter across from him. "I've never seen you down here," she said, "and I'm down here all the time."

"Really?" Draco shrugged as well. "I used to come down here a lot. When I was a child."

"Hmm." Ginny continued to eye him as he drank his coffee, her arms folded over her chest. Her eyes were scrutinizing. Draco shifted uneasily; he hated it when she started looking at him like that.

"So what happened today?" she asked suddenly. "At work, I mean."

Draco's eyebrows shot up. "Excuse me?"

"I would have left it alone," she said briskly, "but I can tell whatever it is, it's still bothering you. Which means it's probably more than just a reprimand from your boss or an overload of assignments. So." She lifted an eyebrow. "What is it?"

Draco stifled the instinct to shut himself off, snap that she didn't know anything about him, and stalk off. She was right, after all, and considering all that had passed between them recently, Draco found that confiding in her did not seem as alien as it should have. He eyed her considerately for a moment, taking another sip of his coffee, before answering her. "I had…an unwelcome visitor," he said grudgingly. When Ginny only frowned, he explained. "Warrington. I don't know if you remember him; he was a few years above you at Hogwarts. But he—"

"—is a Death Eater." Ginny wore an alarmed expression now. "Isn't he?"

"Well, it hasn't been proven," Draco said sourly, thinking over the visit with dark thoughts. "Otherwise, he wouldn't be able to stroll into my office the way he did. But, yes. I know it to be true."

"You know for a fact?"

Draco shrugged.

Ginny let out an exasperated breath. "Malfoy, then why don't you _tell_ someone? Why didn't you call Aurors down the moment he stepped foot into your office?"

"I don't have any proof—"

"He's got a Dark Mark, hasn't he?"

"Well, yeah, I guess, but—"

"So there's your bloody proof!"

"It's not that simple, Weasley, all right?" Draco snapped. Sure, turn in a fellow Death Eater. Hadn't he done enough to betray them already? All they needed was another excuse to kill him. "Anyhow, I wasn't in any danger. If he intended to hurt me, he wouldn't have come to see me at work. It was just another…" He waved a vague hand. "Threat."

Anger was pooling in Ginny's eyes, making them dark. "Like when Higgs and Goyle came here, you mean."

Draco shrugged warily. He couldn't tell if Ginny was angry with him, or just with the Death Eaters and their threats. She opened her mouth to say something further, but Draco forestalled her. He knew what she was going to say, or the gist of it, anyway. "Look, there's not much I can do about it, all right? Except take all the necessary precautions to be sure they can never get to me, and they can't. Not here, not at work—"

"They _did_ get in here!"

"Because I let them," Draco said impatiently. "And good thing I did, because now the two of them are in prison."

"And I don't know why you feel so safe at the Ministry," Ginny railed, apparently ignoring him. "Considering they attacked _that_ place with little trouble, getting plenty of people killed or…run off."

Draco's argument stilled, resting on the tip of his tongue. His eyes flickered over to Ginny quickly, taking in her expression. He knew that last bit was a reference to her brother, the one who had died in the Ministry attack, because he knew she still refused to accept that he was dead. He decided against saying anything, this time. As it was, she barely seemed to realize she'd said anything, so he wasn't going to push it.

"Look," he said, reorganizing his thoughts, "this is what they do, all right? The Death Eaters, I mean. You can't just walk away from them. You can't make deals or promises with them and then expect to renege on that and walk away. They don't make it that easy. They come after you." He said all this in a measured, deliberate tone, looking Ginny straight in the eye. She didn't flinch under his unwavering gaze, though she frowned unhappily at his words. He paused, eyeing her a moment longer before downing the rest of his coffee. "If you don't want any part of that, _you_ can still leave."

"No, I can't," Ginny snapped. "Don't be ridiculous."

Draco was surprised, but irrationally pleased by her words.

"I just don't see how you can be so—so _calm_ about people coming after you and threatening you." Ginny blew out a breath, her lips pursed in irritation. "How you can just…not _do_ anything about it."

Draco shrugged, putting his coffee cup down on the counter behind him. "There's nothing to do. Except make sure they don't get any further than making threats, and _that_ I have a good handle on. No one's going to get to me, Weasley. Or to you and Will, for that matter."

Ginny's eyes flickered in surprise at his words. She remained silent for a moment, the two of them staring at each other solemnly, before she cleared her throat and tossed a glance over his shoulder, at the door she'd come in through. "Well. Anyway, I'm sorry you had to put up with all that today. But—" A glimmer of mischievousness entered her eyes "—I think I have something that will cheer you up." She glanced over his shoulder again, and raised her voice slightly. "Nuly?"

Draco glanced around in surprise. Then the lights suddenly dimmed, not so much that Draco wasn't still perfectly capable of seeing anything, but just enough that the kitchens suddenly seemed even cozier than usual. Then the far door swung open and Nuly came inside, carrying a small plate in her hands. When she came closer and lifted it up to Draco, he saw what it was—a small cupcake, iced in chocolate, with a single, flaming candle sticking out of the top.

Draco stared at the house-elf and the cupcake in stunned surprise. Wordlessly, he took the plate from Nuly, who dropped him a low bow and said, "Happy Birthday, Master Malfoy." Then, she dropped Ginny a quick bow and scurried out of the room, leaving them alone.

Draco stared at the plate in his hands a moment longer, before lifting his gaze to Ginny, blinking. Her arms were still folded across her chest, but she didn't look angry anymore; she wore a smugly pleased expression on her face. "You forgot, didn't you?"

"Yes." Draco swallowed, glancing down at the cupcake again. "Completely."

She snorted and rolled her eyes, letting him know just exactly what she thought of an idiot who forgot his own birthday. "Well, I didn't." A guilty look stole over her face. "Or, well, Nuly and Tasher didn't. I actually had no idea when your birthday was, but they told me, earlier today."

"Oh." Draco still stared at the cupcake. It was utterly ridiculous, but something warm was filling his chest, a sort of childish joy, at the sight of the cupcake. "Well. Thank you."

"You can thank me by making a wish and blowing out the candle," she said impatiently, "so we can eat it already."

Draco shot her an indignant look. "So _we_ can eat it?"

"Well, considering it was _my_ idea—"

"You just said it was the house-elves idea."

"—I think I deserve half, don't you?" she said flippantly.

Draco ignored her, closed his eyes in the pretense of making a wish—ridiculous idea—and blew out the candle. Even though it had only been a single, small candle, the space between him and Ginny suddenly seemed darker, closer, intimate. Draco swallowed again as he took the small knife from the edge of the plate, cutting of a very small piece of the cupcake. He offered it to Ginny.

She stared at him incredulously. "This is it?"

"Beggars can't be choosers, Weasley."

With a huff, Ginny took the small, proffered piece of cupcake. She ate it in one bite, leaving a tiny smear of chocolate on her bottom lip. Draco felt his blood quicken as he watched her lick it off with the tip of her tongue, seemingly unaware of his scrutinizing eye.

"Weasley," he said suddenly, an idea forming in his mind. He set the little plate aside, his cupcake momentarily forgotten.

"What?" she asked, without looking up.

Draco allowed an old, familiar smirk to spread across his face. "Don't you want to know what I wished for?"

Ginny lifted her gaze to him now, licking one last bit of chocolate off her thumb. "If you tell me, it won't come true, Malfoy."

"Somehow, I doubt that." Without pause, Draco reached out and grasped Ginny by the wrist, pulling her towards him with a single, seamless yank. She caught her breath sharply as she stumbled into him, her free hand coming up to rest on his chest to steady herself. Draco gripped her by the shoulder, then slowly ran his hand down her back, coming to rest lightly but meaningfully on her waist.

He heard Ginny's breath hitch in her throat as she glanced up at him. Her eyes were almost resentful, but she seemed to lean toward him unconsciously, lifting herself up so that her lips hovered near his. "This?" she said dryly, her voice low. "This is what you wished for?"

Draco's smirk widened. "You don't think it's a good wish?"

"I think most people wish for…larger things," she said pointedly. She seemed to inch even closer to him, despite the fact that she was already pressed against him. "You know, wealth, prestige, power. That sort of thing."

Draco dropped his head a fraction of an inch, effectively closing the rest of the distance between them. His hand slipped down her wrist, entwining her fingers in his. "But I already have all those things," he whispered. Then he closed his lips over hers, and the warm sensation in his chest exploded in a burst of flaming delight.

Ginny was already as close to him as she could be; he could feel every curve of her body molded against his own, but she melted into him as his lips moved against hers, as though she were struggling to cease to exist at all, outside of this kiss. The hand on his chest slid upwards, wrapping around the back of his neck, and a moan rose deep in Draco's throat. She did this every time, every time he kissed her, and the feel of her fingers tickling the hair at the nape of his neck was more pleasurable than he ever would have imagined.

Draco's hand tightened around Ginny's waist as her tongue teased through his lips, deepening the kiss into something fiercer, stronger, more urgent. All the air around them seemed to have been sucked out of the room, but Draco didn't care; the need to breathe didn't seem so important anymore. His hand slid out of hers, and he placed it at the base of her throat, where the neck of her shirt ended, exposing her collarbone in a bare expanse of skin. He could feel her pulse beating erratically beneath his palm, its pace quickening frantically as he shoved her back and around, against the counter behind her.

The pressure of her body wedged between his and the counter was almost unbearable, even more so as she rose up on her tip-toes, her hips angling against his. His hand left her wildly thumping pulse and drifted up the side of her neck, across her flushed cheek. His fingers caught a fist of her hair, and he pulled her head back, exposing the length of her neck to his wandering lips. Ginny's breath came out in short, shallow gasps as he trailed kisses along her jaw and her throat, and her hand fisted in the back of his shirt when his lips paused to suck at a tender place on the side of her neck.

Ginny buckled beneath him and she turned her head aside, her lips seeking his, demanding more attention. A shudder ran through Draco's body as her hand came around to cup the back of his neck along with her other arm, as though to anchor herself in a better position against him. He could feel her trembling between him and the counter, and he pressed forward, wedging a knee between her legs, and her grip behind his head tightened until he thought her nails were biting into his flesh—

And then a long, high-pitched wail sounded out from right behind them, on the counter, and Ginny jerked her head back, ripping her lips from his so suddenly that it was almost painful. Draco took a small, stumbling step away from her, and she fell back on her heels, her hands slipping from around his neck.

"What the bloody hell is that?" Draco growled, his voice rough and his words practically slurring together in the wake of their violently-clashing lips. He blinked hazily and tried to peer over her head, as his hand disentangled from her hair, slipping onto her shoulder.

"It's my wand," Ginny mumbled, shaking her head as though trying to clear her thoughts. Her eyes were a little bewildered as she turned around; Draco reluctantly let go of her but left his hands on the counter, still encircling her. She picked up the wailing wand and turned back to him, frowning. "It's Will."

Will. _Oh, right_. The wailing coming from the wand suddenly formed and registered as Will's cries in Draco's ears. Probably he'd woken up and begun crying; he had been fussy, he remembered, when Ginny went up to put him to bed. He blew out a hard sigh, finally dropping his arms and stepping back another pace. "Damn it," he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

"I'll go check on him," Ginny said wearily, a glum, almost wistful note in her voice.

"Do you have to?"

Ginny shot him an incredulous look.

"Merlin, Weasley, I was joking," Draco grumbled. She turned and headed out the door, but Draco followed her, adding, "Hey, but we're not finished here, Weasley," as they stepped out into the corridor.

She shot him a sour look over her shoulder.

Will had indeed woken and was now bawling up a storm; Tasher had been looking in on him, but the house-elves were rather small themselves to be picking up a nearly one-year old baby, so they usually just waited until Ginny or Draco got there. Draco dismissed Tasher as Ginny reached into the crib to lift the crying Will into her arms. "I think he might be coming down with something," she said, as she patted him and soothed him with whispers. She didn't sound worried. "He's not usually so fussy like this. Not anymore, anyway."

Draco nodded mutely, watching Ginny and Will.

After several minutes, when Will failed to calm down, Draco took him from Ginny, and this time, Will began to settle. Draco shot Ginny a quick look, but she did not look frustrated or disappointed; sometimes Will responded to Draco better, and sometimes he responded to Ginny better. Once he was quiet and asleep again, Draco turned to put him back into his crib, and found Ginny now watching him, a small frown creasing her forehead. Once Will was back in his crib, fitfully sleeping, her gaze dropped to the baby and her frown deepened, a hint of worry in her eyes.

"It's probably nothing, Weasley," Draco said quietly, assuming she was worried about Will getting sick. "Just a summer flu, or something."

"What? No, I know, yeah, I—that's not what—" She broke off, still staring down at Will.

"That's not what?" Draco prompted, his eyes narrowing on her.

Ginny glanced up at him from across the crib, and she bit her lip. "It's just…" She blew out a long sigh. "I'm not his mother, Malfoy."

Draco lifted an eyebrow. Ah. He thought this would come up again, eventually. "I'm aware of that, Weasley," he said calmly.

"I know _you_ are," she said crossly. She glanced down at Will. "But…does he? You heard what he said earlier, Malfoy," she said, her voice suddenly a bit desperate. There was a slightly lost, confused look in her eyes.

Draco furrowed his brow. On the one hand, because he understood Ginny Weasley very well now, he understood her panicking over this. On the other hand, to his mind, he couldn't see what the big deal was. "Does it really matter, Weasley?"

"Of course it does!" The volume of her voice rose an inch, and then she shot Will a guilty look, judging to be sure that she hadn't disturbed him. Once she seemed satisfied he was still asleep, she walked around the crib, cocking her head at Draco to indicate he should follow her. They crossed the room and stopped in the doorway between the nursery and the short corridor which led to Ginny's room. There, Ginny crossed her arms over her chest, leaning back against the doorframe. "How can you say that it doesn't matter?" she demanded.

Draco rubbed a hand over his forehead, but his frustration was not really for her. It was more over struggling to articulate his thoughts, his feelings. He tried to look at the situation from Ginny's obviously alarmed perspective but could not. "He's only a year old, anyway," he pointed out. "He doesn't really know what he's saying."

"That's not necessarily true," Ginny argued. "And you can't just dismiss this like that."

"Look, for one thing…of _course_ he sees you as his mother, Weasley. You've raised him since he was born; you literally have not been away from him for more than a few weeks, back when I was released from the hospital last year." Draco shrugged. "And he's not old enough yet that he can understand the distinctions between the woman who gave birth to him and the woman who now provides constant care for him, considering the woman who gave birth to him is dead. He never knew her, Weasley. You're all he knows."

"Malfoy, I _know_." Ginny's eyes were anguished. "Don't you see, that's the problem."

"Why?" he demanded.

"Because I'm not his mother!"

"Maybe not biologically," Draco reasoned, "but were you planning on going anywhere sometime soon?"

Ginny gave a guilty start at this. "Of course not. We agreed, didn't I? I'll at least be here for a few years, so long as…nothing goes wrong."

There was something sinister about the way she said those last three words, and for some reason, it left a slightly empty feeling in Draco's chest, as though the hole left by his parents' abandonment had been pricked open again, just a small tear. It unsettled him, and he couldn't really understand the feeling, so he ignored it. "Then there's no problem," he said instead. "In a few years, he'll be old enough that you—or we, I guess—can at least give him a watered down version about his real mother, and about what you really are to him. He won't be confused."

Ginny opened her mouth, but didn't say anything, so she shut it again. She looked frustrated, as though she couldn't figure out how to say something, or maybe as though she didn't want to say what she was thinking. Draco had a sudden sense of foreboding, further widening the tear in his chest.

"I mean—you care about him, don't you?" Draco shifted uneasily. "You're not going to leave him, are you? Not so long as he needs you, anyway."

"No." Ginny looked faintly surprised, but whether by his question or by her own admission, Draco wasn't sure. "Of course not, I wouldn't…leave him. I mean—" She paused, turning around to gaze into the nursery, at Will sleeping in his crib. When she turned back to Malfoy, her eyes were shining with vulnerability, and Draco knew this was one of those rare times when she was struggling with her emotional capacities.

"It's not that I'm opposed to him regarding me as his mother." Ginny's words were rushed, her voice low, as though she was ashamed or unsure about what she was saying. She looked up at Draco with consternation. "Malfoy, I…I love him." She swallowed. "I do. And, I've obviously never been a mother before, so I don't know how it's supposed to feel, or what I should be thinking—but—" She broke off, shaking her head, turning to gaze over at Will once more.

"I just don't want to hurt him," she said quietly. "And I wouldn't, not on purpose, but—" She bit her lip. "What if I let him down?"

"You won't," Draco said shortly. "You just said so yourself."

"Not on purpose," she repeated, turning to face Draco. Her expression was so torn, so open, so raw. "But, what if…" She trailed off again, still failing to finish her unformed anxieties.

The tear in Draco's chest seemed to rip open another inch, and he couldn't understand it, this sudden pain inside of him, just a hint of it, a teaser of what could really come. A reminder of the pain that had flooded him and swallowed him whole when his mother had…gone. He couldn't make sense of it, why it should return now. But there was something more there, some worry Ginny did not seem willing to voice, and while he didn't know what it was, it ate at him nevertheless, picking at the hole in his chest.

He didn't understand it. He didn't want to. He just wanted it to go away.

"Look," he heard himself say, struggling to make this all okay. "We're…making more of this than there really is. He called you his mum, so what? Just because he said it today doesn't change how he's always felt about you. Nothing's changed. We're just…" He shrugged "…thinking too much of it. That's all."

Ginny nodded slowly, but she still looked unconvinced. Draco wished he could know what she was thinking, what she wasn't saying, but the pain inside of him made him too afraid to press her on it. "I guess. You're right."

"I always am," Draco said, a smug note to his voice.

"I wouldn't go that far," Ginny said dryly. "Well, get out of here then, Malfoy. I'm tired, I'm going to bed."

Draco shot her an injured glance, his mouth falling open slightly. "You're _tired?_ Weasley, I told you we weren't finished back there—"

"Yes." Ginny reached up and patted his cheek insultingly, like a child. "I heard you."

"It's my birthday," he grumbled.

"Well, we shouldn't always get everything we want," she said lightly, ushering him down the corridor and out of her room. "It makes us lazy."

Muttering sullenly to himself, Draco allowed himself to be pushed out of her room. He was still grumbling curses by the time he made it to his own bedroom.

Will's own birthday was a week later, and luckily, the little bug he'd picked up was gone by then, and he was back to his usual cheerful, curious self. Draco and Ginny didn't make any special plans; as Ginny no longer spoke to most of her family, and Draco had neither friends nor family left, they decided to simply have a grand dinner, a cake, and presents of course. This was all planned for the evening, as Draco had to go into work for a little while that day.

When Draco arrived home late that afternoon, however, Ginny and Will were not alone. Tasher met him in the entrance hall and informed him that Ginny was visiting with a guest in the parlor.

"What guest?" Draco demanded.

"A Miss Fleur Delacour, Master Malfoy. She said she was her sister-in-law."

Draco felt a sense of foreboding. "Er—_just_ her sister-in-law?"

"Yes, Master Malfoy."

Draco breathed a sigh of relief. At least none of her brothers had come to pay a visit as well. Still, Draco was puzzled as he went to meet them in the parlor. Although he knew Ginny paid Fleur and her brother many visits with Will, he didn't think either of them ever came here.

When he reached the parlor on the south side of the manor, he found the door slightly ajar. He was about to knock and head inside when a voice he assumed to be Fleur's floated out into the corridor. Her words gave him pause.

"…theenk Draco is right, Ginny. You 'ave nothing to be worried about."

Draco froze, standing just beside the door, out of sight, as he listened. His brow furrowed. _Right about what?_

"I know he's right." Draco was surprised to hear this admission from Ginny, and he listened all the more intently as she went on, "I mean…I'll admit, when Will first called me his mother, I panicked because…well, because I'm _not_ his mother, not his real mother, and…I thought he'd be confused. But Malfoy's right; that can all be explained to him. I mean, it's not as though I'm the first woman to raise a child that's not really hers."

"Zen what eez eet you are worried about?" Fleur asked, sounding confused. Draco was equally confused, and a small lump of dread filled his throat, blocking his airway. He thought of the conversation he'd had with Ginny just last week, and he remembered how it had seemed there was something she wasn't saying, something that was bothering her. Would she say it now?

"It's just…" Ginny blew out a hard sigh. "What if I can't always be there for him? What if he grows too close to me and…something happens?"

"You mean, what if somezing 'appens to you?"

"No, no," Ginny rushed to deny this. "Although that would be terrible too, of course…" Her voice trailed off and she paused, and Draco imagined her struggling to articulate her thoughts. "Maybe I'm Will's mother," she said finally, "and Malfoy is his father, but…Malfoy and _I_ aren't—we're not…"

"Togezzer," Fleur finished.

"Yes. Together," Ginny said quietly.

An inexplicable flinch ran through Draco's body; he almost recoiled from the door. It was an odd reaction; what Ginny said was perfectly true, after all. A couple heavy snog sessions didn't mean there was anything between them.

"Which is not to say…" Ginny hesitated as she spoke up again. "I mean, we're…friends. I think." Her tone was dubious, as though the idea of Draco as a friend was a strange one, which, Draco had to agree, it was. "I certainly don't hate him anymore, not like I used to. And we take care of Will together, we both care about him. But…" She broke off.

"But what?" Fleur prompted. Draco listened desperately.

"What if…things aren't always that way?" Ginny said slowly. "What if…things change…and then, what if things go bad, and—and I can't stay here, either because Malfoy doesn't want me to, or because I feel like I can't—then what?"

Draco almost didn't hear the next bit of the conversation; he was too caught up in what Ginny had just said, her words running through his mind as he dissected them. _What if things change?_ What if _what_ things changed? What did she mean by that? And if _things go bad_…obviously she meant if they had some kind falling-out, an argument so terrible and huge that they couldn't get around it. The small hole in Draco's chest rent an opening, and a sliver of guilt wormed its way through. He could think of many things about him that might make Ginny so angry, things she didn't know about him, things that could drive her away…

"…want zings to change?" Fleur was saying. Draco shook his head and pulled himself back to the conversation.

Ginny was quiet for a moment. "I don't know," she said. "I honestly had never thought about it before, at least not until…_this_ all came up."

Draco withdrew, then, as he heard one or both of the women get to their feet, and he didn't want to be caught lurking out in the corridor. He retreated to the drawing room, and was sitting in one of the armchairs before the fire when Ginny and Fleur came into the room, carrying Will and, Draco was surprised to see, another baby, who must've been Fleur's daughter.

Fleur greeted Draco very warmly, which made Draco slightly uneasy; she bore an uncanny resemblance to Gabrielle and he thought of her every time he looked Fleur in the face. Fleur did not seem unhappy, however, and if she'd heard any of the speculation about Draco being involved in her sister's death, she didn't let any misgivings show. Draco inquired politely after her baby, who was named Victoire, she told him. Victoire was fair-skinned with large eyes, like two blue, round saucers in her delicate face, and Will waved frantically to her when Fleur and her baby departed by Floo powder.

"They just came by to wish Will a happy birthday," Ginny explained, once they were gone. "And she wasn't the first one, either. Tracey came by and had lunch with us—"

"Tracey _Davis?_"

"Yes, she is my friend, Malfoy," Ginny said crossly, probably put off by his incredulous and disgusted tone. "And she was a big help, taking care of Will, when you weren't here. She was here all the time. The only reason she never comes by anymore is because _you're_ here."

"Well, it is _my_ house."

"Anyway, and your friend came by, too," she went on. "This morning. Shortly after you left, actually."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "My friend? Who, Pansy?"

"If it was Pansy, I would've said Pansy." Ginny rolled her eyes and waved an indifferent hand. "No, you know. What's-his-name. That bloke whose party you went to, right when you got back from the Continent."

"_Theo?_" Draco stared. "What on earth did he want?"

"I told you, to wish Will a happy birthday. And he brought a present, too, a stuffed bear. It was quite cool, actually, it came with this toy wand and everything. It was kind of weird, though." Ginny frowned, her expression puzzled. "I'd never even met him before. I recognized him from school, and Tasher did, too, so I let him in—I mean, you _are_ friends with him, aren't you?" The gaze she turned on Draco was slightly anxious, as though afraid she'd let an enemy into their home.

"We're friends," Draco said slowly. "I trust him, if that's what you're worried about. I actually took Will over to his house once, before I went to the Continent. We had a dinner and there was nobody I could leave Will with, so…" He trailed off.

Ginny watched him narrowly. "But?" she prompted, astute as ever.

Draco gave an uncomfortable shrug. "I just haven't talked to him in a while, is all. I've barely even seen him since his dinner party last December." He frowned, staring out into the distance. "Theo's dad was a Death Eater too, you know. But unlike Crabbe and Goyle, he was never very keen on joining the Death Eaters."

"Like you," Ginny supplied.

Draco's eyes hardened as he turned his gaze on Ginny. "Unlike me. I joined the Death Eaters, remember?"

"Yes, but you're not one anymore," Ginny said unflinchingly. She didn't bat an eye. "I'm just saying, that's probably why you've remained friends with him, when you haven't with so many others. He's not frightened of your connections to Death Eaters, but he doesn't want to be one, either." She must have sensed his unwillingness for this conversation, however, so she changed tack quickly.

"Anyway, Fleur didn't just come by to wish Will a happy birthday. She also—er—" Ginny cleared her throat uncertainly. "She also wanted to bring those by." She indicated a place over Draco's shoulder with her chin.

Draco looked around in surprise, spotting a small pile of presents he had not noticed when he'd first come in, sitting by the sofa. "_All_ of those?" Draco stared. "Fleur brought all that for Will?"

"Well, only one gift is from her, I think." Ginny sounded uncomfortable for some reason, and Draco whirled around to face her with a suspicious eye. "Er—my mum and dad sent something, too."

Draco blinked in astonishment. "Your—your _parents?_ How did they even know it was Will's birthday? Did you tell them?"

Ginny shot him a strange look, but a moment later, the look was gone, and she only shook her head. "No…I suppose Fleur did. Anyway, Diana got him something too—my other sister-in-law," she explained, when Draco turned a blank gaze on her. "Diana Bradley, you know, she was at school with us, on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team.." She did not elaborate as to which brother _this_ one was married to, and Draco did not ask. "And Charlie sent something along as well, and so did—well—so did Fred."

Draco stared at her, nonplussed. "Fred? One of the twins?"

"Yes, and it looks like it's from their shop," Ginny said darkly, "so I don't think we should open it. But the others are all right, I'm sure, and it was really—well, it was really nice of them, don't you think?" She looked at Draco with some mute plea in her eyes, and any suspicion or derision he felt about the Weasleys sending gifts dissipated.

"Yeah, sure," he said, with only a faint trace of sarcasm to his words. "Really nice."

Ginny shot him a suspicious glare, but she led Will over to the sofa so he could open the presents. Draco followed at a slightly slower pace.

The presents, all in all, were not bad. Fleur and Bill had given him a couple of picture books, enchanted, of course, so that the pictures moved and spoke. Ginny seemed absolutely delighted by one of them; she kept exclaiming, "Oh, this was my favorite when I was a child! I'll read it to you tonight, Will." Her parents had sent a package that consisted of a small chocolate cake, some handmade clothes which Draco silently swore his son would never wear in public, and a strange, noisy toy which Draco had never seen or heard of before, which he strongly suspected to be a Muggle toy. Charlie's gift was by far the best; even Draco couldn't hide his amazement when Ginny helped Will unwrap a toy broom for Will to ride on.

"I was going to get him one of these," Draco said enthusiastically, examining the miniature broom. "But I only went a couple days ago and they were sold out, so I was going to mail order one—"

"Well, now you won't have to." Ginny grinned, seeming just as delighted about the toy broom as he was. This was something he had forgotten about Ginny; he'd expected her to fret over Will falling off the broom, but she, too, played Quidditch, he remembered.

The only gift left was from Diana, who Ginny now admitted was married to the other twin, George, and added that Diana had probably sent it along secretly without George knowing. This made Draco a little wary about opening it, but Ginny only laughed at this and helped Will open it right away.

"Oh, look!" Ginny held up a tiny grey Quidditch sweatshirt, which looked as though it would fit Will perfectly. "Falmouth Falcons, Malfoy, it's your team! I wonder how she knew that," she mused, glancing at the small card that had been sent with the gift. "Oh, look, she says she's charmed it so he won't outgrow it; it'll just change to fit him as he gets older."

Even though Draco was fairly certain he had never worn a sweatshirt in his life, he had to admit that the fact that Diana had somehow known his team was seriously cool. Actually, come to think of it, wasn't Diana Bradley one of those Ravenclaw Quidditch girls he and his mates had started fighting with once over which was the best team in the league…

"Malfoy?"

Draco jerked out of this thoughts. "What?"

"It's time for dinner," Ginny reminded him, helping Will get to his feet.

"Er—" Draco shot her a guilty look. "Can't we try out the broomstick first?"

Ginny rolled her eyes, but when she handed Will's tiny hand over to him, he knew she was as excited to try it out as he was. "I guess," she conceded. "But the food's going to get cold, you know."

Before they could head outside, however, they were interrupted by Tasher, who came in and gave a low bow before them. "Master Malfoy, Miss Pansy is awaiting you in the entrance hall. She says she's come to wish Master Will 'Happy Birthday' and to give him his gift."

Draco exchanged a glance with Ginny, who grinned. "Well," she said, "I guess Will's got more friends than we thought."

***

Sleep eluded Ginny that night, for the first time in a while. She tossed and turned, she threw her blankets off only to pull them back on again, she closed her eyes and tried to drift off, but her mind would not stop buzzing with thoughts.

It was Malfoy, of course. "Bloody Malfoy," she muttered to herself, turning on to her left side. Everything had been bloody _fine_ until about a week ago. When Will had called her 'mama' for the first time. When Draco bloody Malfoy had snogged her within an inch of her life. She still had the mark on her neck to prove it.

Of course, she had started it, hadn't she? She'd agreed to move in, knowing full-well that something like this might happen. She had let it happen, _made_ it happen, two months ago when she told Malfoy she remembered kissing him, back before Will had even been born.

And now all the lines were blurred, and she had no one to blame but herself. She had just felt so…bereft, all but estranged from her family, and forced to accept that Blaise was really dead. She'd needed someone to turn to, and there was no one but Malfoy. The fact that he was an incredibly attractive man was beside the point.

Ginny's eyes popped open at _that_ stray thought. With a huff of frustration for herself, she forced herself out of bed, checking on Will once before leaving the room. It was times like these, when she couldn't sleep or wanted a nighttime snack, that she really resented how massive this manor was, and how far away the kitchens were from her bedroom.

As she found herself a warm glass of milk in the kitchen, she thought back on the conversation she'd had with Fleur, earlier that day. It was still troubling her, the realization that Will depended on her for so much, loved her so much, and that she, too, loved him as good as any mother. She just felt so…unstable, in this situation here, with Malfoy, at the manor. Especially now, especially considering what had been…happening between her and Malfoy lately. If things had remained how they were, and she was no more than a nanny, then there was no reason their deal should ever be breached, no reason she couldn't go on to work for and live with him for years and years.

But now…they weren't _together_, as Fleur had put it, but neither were they merely employer and employee. It made everything so tenuous, so fragile, and Ginny was afraid that if something…what, she did not know…were to happen, were to go wrong, then she might be forced to leave Will. Out of Malfoy's demands, or out of her own.

The milk, or perhaps the long walk down the stairs and through the endless corridors, had made her drowsy, so she headed sleepily back down the corridor. She'd nearly reached the main staircase when she heard a low _cre-e-eak_ behind her, somewhere in the darkness. Ginny stifled a gasp and whirled around, staring into the shadows surrounding her. She peered down the corridor, but there was no hint of movement in the darkness. She blinked and shook herself, resuming her way back to the staircase. She was being ridiculous; it was probably only the house settling, as her mother always said. She thought back, with a smile, to the first night she'd spent in the manor, with Tracey, and how spooked they'd been when they ran into Pansy in the dark corridor…

Halfway up the staircase, she paused to fan herself; in spite of the cooling charms they'd employed in the manor, the house could be stifling in the summer months, and it was getting warmer everyday. She'd just begun her ascent again when a rustling noise caught her ear, and a flash of movement flickered out of the corner of her eye. Ginny glanced sharply aside, to her right, peering up the rest of the staircase. She hurried up a few more steps and saw, now, that the window at the end of the corridor was open, the curtains blowing lightly in the breeze

Ginny froze. Why would the house-elves have left a window open? Perhaps because it was so hot? The cooling charms _did_ keep it cool, but the place was still stuffy. Perhaps they just wanted to let some fresh air in…still, leaving a window open in the middle of the night wasn't really a very prudent idea…

She hurried up the rest of the steps, deciding to close the window, but no sooner had she reached the landing of the second floor than a sudden _bang!_ sounded out. Ginny jumped, spinning around, and saw that the window had shut on its own. Ginny swallowed. No doubt the wind had gusted up outside and shut the window; there was no one else around, after all. Malfoy had long gone to bed and the house-elves were nowhere in sight…

That's when she heard it. Another _cre-e-e-ak_, this time closer, more deliberate, as though someone or something had moved close behind her. Ginny whirled around again, her whole body tense with caution. Warily, she peered into the shadows around her, but she couldn't see anyone. Then another noise sounded out, this time a sort of grating scuffle, like footsteps upon the stone floor.

"Hello?" Ginny said sharply. She turned in a slow circle, her eyes narrowed. She couldn't tell, this time, where that sound had come from, though it had been close. "Who's there?" she demanded, and there was an edge to her voice now, a hint of panic in her tone.

There was no answer. Ginny tried to convince herself that it was nothing, that she was imagining things in the darkness around her, but a knot of apprehension was forming in the pit of her stomach. Then she heard it again, and she knew she wasn't imagining it this time—footsteps, quiet but deliberate, that scuffle of boots against stone, approaching, coming closer…

"Malfoy?" she dared. No answer. "_Who's there?_" she reiterated, looking to her right, her left, then to her right again. She tried to stay calm, but her breath was quickening, coming in shallowly.

Anxiously, with nowhere to go, Ginny turned back, looking down the steps she'd just come up. Perhaps she should head back downstairs; Nuly was probably still in the kitchens and she could—

It happened in an instant, one, terrifying moment. Hands suddenly on her back, giving her a hard, firm _shove_. Ginny didn't even have time to scream, didn't have time to draw breath before she went tumbling down the staircase, knocking her head, her elbows. The next thing she knew, she was lying flat on her back at the base of the staircase, a darkness blacker than shadows swimming before her eyes. She clung onto consciousness, struggling to think, to breathe, but everything hurt too much, and she fell prey to the black void swallowing her thoughts.

- - - - -

**Author's Notes:**

This chapter was originally meant to be longer, and not end with such an evil cliffie...but I decided to be evil.

I'm expecting this fic to have four more chapters and a short epilogue, so if all goes well, we'll be wrapping up soon!


	17. Chapter Sixteen

**Author's Notes: **Thanks for all the reviews! I'd like to remind everyone that I often have cookies and updates for upcoming chapters on my LJ. Username is littlebit_liz.

Well, this chapter is kind of the beginning of the end, the first chapter where everything we've been leading up to begins to come together. So, er, enjoy!

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**Chapter Sixteen**

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Thudding footsteps sounded out on the stairwell above her, jerking Ginny back into consciousness. She wasn't sure she'd actually blacked out in the first place; she'd just been momentarily overwhelmed by the pain and shock of what had happened. She was still too stunned to be afraid of the footsteps coming down towards her.

She needn't have been, anyway. "Weasley? _Weasley!_ What happened?"

Ginny felt Malfoy's hands on her before she saw him. Slowly, the blackness dancing before her faded into little spots, flickering here and there, and then, finally, her vision cleared. She blinked a couple times, with effort, before Malfoy's face, his eyes full of dark concern, appeared before her.

"What _happened_, Weasley?" Malfoy demanded. "Did you fall?"

Ginny tried to answer him, but she still couldn't breathe; all the breath had been knocked out of her when she'd _slammed_ into the floor, flat on her back. Malfoy grabbed her by the arms and eased her into a sitting position; she winced as a searing pain awoke in her back.

"Where are you hurt, Weasley? What hurts, are you hurt? Weasley, talk to me!"

With the onset of pain, her breath finally seemed to come back to her, and it was through shallow gasps that she managed, "I—someone—pushed—" A sliver of fear stole through her as she remembered what had happened, but Malfoy was here now, and that brought a wave of relief. "Someone _pushed_­—"

"Pushed?" Malfoy echoed sharply. His whole body tensed, and his eyes darkened until they seemed almost black. "Weasley, what? Did you say someone pushed you?"

"Yes, I was—up th-there—and I could hear someone, but—no one answered—and then they _pushed_ me—"

Malfoy's hands tightened around her arms until she thought he would cut off her circulation, and he yanked her forward thoughtlessly, trying to look her straight in the eye. "Are you sure?"

"Malfoy, _ow_, that hurts!"

"Sorry." His grip slackened, only a little, but he didn't let go of her. "Weasley, are you sure someone pushed you? Are you sure you didn't just fall?"

"Of course I'm sure," she said waspishly, her voice still shaking with pain and shortened breath. "I felt someone push me!"

The implications of that sunk into her then, and as she looked Malfoy in the eye, she saw that he was thinking the same thing. "Will," he breathed. He let go of Ginny abruptly, leaping to his feet. He had one foot on the staircase before he hesitated, turning back to her. "Can you walk?"

Ginny's whole body was shaking, and her back was burning with pain. "N-no. Not…yet—but forget it, Malfoy, just go!"

"But I don't want to just leave you here, without—"

"Malfoy, go, please!"

Malfoy didn't need to be told a third time; leaving Ginny on her own as she struggled to get to her feet, he thundered up the staircase, disappearing in a rush down the dark corridor. He wasn't gone two seconds when another set of footsteps came down the stairs towards her; this time, Ginny had the sense to be afraid, but it was only Nuly, wringing her little hands with worry.

"Miss Ginny, Miss Ginny, are you all right? Master Malfoy sent me down here, to keep you safe—"

"Thanks, Nuly," Ginny said gratefully. With the little elf's help, she got shakily to her feet, clutching onto the banister to keep from falling over. Every move she made seemed to send new stabs of pain through her back, but it didn't matter. She had to get upstairs, to Will. "C'mon, Nuly," she said through gritted teeth, but the elf didn't have to be told; she was already heading up the stairs, keeping a close eye on Ginny as she struggled up each step.

She'd just reached the top of the landing when Malfoy came into view, coming back down the corridor, and he had Will's crib with him, levitating the entire thing just ahead of him. Ginny felt a surge of relief; surely he wouldn't be carrying along an empty crib. "Will—is he—"

"He's fine," Malfoy said shortly. He kept his wand trained on the levitating crib, but his eyes were watchful, sweeping the shadows around them. He eyed Ginny critically, her slightly hunched-over stance, as she held onto the banister for support. "Can you walk?" he said bluntly.

"I'm—fine—" She tried to take an unsteady step and gasped when she pitched forward. She would have fallen had she not clutched at Malfoy's sleeve at the last minute; he half-reached out with his free hand and caught her, so that she only twisted slightly instead of collapsing to the floor.

"Merlin, Weasley," he muttered. "Take the wand."

Slightly confused, she took his proffered wand, keeping it trained on the crib; then she caught her breath as Malfoy suddenly lifted her off her feet, taking her in his arms. "Malfoy, put me down!" she said crossly.

"We need to move quickly, Weasley," was all he said, in a clipped tone. Nuly hurried along beside him without needing to be ordered as Malfoy started down the corridor, giving Ginny instructions on where to turn the crib as they went, left, then right, left again and left. They went deeply into a part of the manor that Ginny had never seen before, and she knew she wouldn't remember her way out. Not only was it incredibly confusing, but she was beginning to feel drowsy, forcing herself to stay awake long enough to levitate Will in his crib.

Finally, they reached a door, which Nuly opened and Ginny directed the crib through, at Malfoy's instruction. The room seemed small, at first, but then Ginny realized it was only a foyer to more rooms, which lay beyond it. Malfoy directed them through two more doors, two more rooms, until they reached an enormous room with a king-sized bed, hung with heavy, ornate curtains and covered in a dark bedspread. Once Ginny had set Will's crib down in a corner, Malfoy deposited Ginny onto the bed, dropping her quickly but gently. She still winced as her back hit the soft mattress, but her head seemed to sink into the pillows beneath her. She thought she could have fallen asleep immediately in this bed, were it not for the radiating pain in her back and the fact that she was confused, wary, and curious.

"Nuly," Malfoy snapped, as soon as he moved away from Ginny to peer in on Will who, judging by his silence, was still asleep. "Take care of her."

This was a rather vague command, but Nuly seemed to know what to do; she scurried away to a large cabinet beside a marble fireplace at the back wall and flung open one of the doors. She emerged a moment later, carrying an extremely small vial with a dark red liquid inside. She held it out to Ginny as soon as she reached her side.

"What is this?" Ginny asked slowly.

"A painkiller potion, Miss Ginny," Nuly piped back. "You should take it straightaway."

"Wait," Ginny said sharply, as the elf moved to unscrew the top. A painkiller potion would make her even drowsier than she already was, putting her to sleep almost immediately. She struggled to sit up slightly, resting her injured back against the intricately-carved headboard.

Malfoy, who was standing across the room beside an enormous bookcase, tossed her an annoyed look. "Just take it, Weasley."

"Not until I know what's happening," she insisted.

Malfoy pursed his lips, but he didn't argue further with her. Ginny watched in bewildered fascination as he prodded several books on the shelf with his wand, much the same way as one would tap the stones outside the Leaky Cauldron to get into Diagon Alley. Then the books parted, in the middle of the shelf, and slid away, disappearing into the sides of the shelf. Ginny could not see what lay behind the books, but whatever it was had Malfoy's full attention. He stared at the place where the books had been with intense concentration, his lips twitching in an anxious frown.

"What is that?" Ginny asked weakly, struggling to sit up further so she could see.

"It's part of the security system," Malfoy said tensely. "It's basically a complex version of the _Homenum revelio_ spell, only it covers a lot more distance and it's built into the system. Sort of pre-cast, you see, so no one has to cast the spell; it just has to be triggered. That way a house-elf can do it, that's where I sent Tasher."

"Tasher?"

"He was with Will when I got to the nursery."

As if on cue, Tasher came hurrying into the room, from the way Ginny and the others had come. "Master Malfoy!"

"I'm running a second sweep now," Malfoy said to the house-elf, his tone brusque. "What about the initial one, Tasher? Did you pick up anything?"

"There was just a trace of—something, on the edge of the perimeter, Master Malfoy. Off the back lawn. But—" The elf shrugged helplessly. "It could've been anything."

Malfoy watched his bookcase with impatient eyes. "Nothing's showing up now," he said after a moment. "Nothing at all."

Ginny, taking this as a sign of doubt, opened her mouth to protest, to insist that someone had pushed her, that someone must have been in the manor. Before she could say anything, however, Malfoy rounded on Tasher, and his eyes were furious. "You're sure you saw no one, Tasher? Not a soul? You didn't hear anything, _see anything?_"

Tasher wore an expression of beseeching appeal, and he trembled slightly. "No, Master Malfoy."

Ginny gaped. True, Malfoy had never been particularly appreciative or demonstrative of the house-elves, but neither had she ever seen him treat them with such anger or mistrust. "Malfoy—"

"Not _anyone_, Tasher?" Malfoy's voice rose, and he, too, was shaking with barely-suppressed rage. "_No one?_ Not even my father?"

Tasher flinched as though he'd been struck, and Ginny's eyes widened in fear and understanding. Nuly, still standing at Ginny's bedside, was also trembling, her face a picture of fear as she watched the scene unfolding before them.

"N-no, Master." Tasher's reply was barely more than a whisper. He suddenly flung himself forward onto his face before Malfoy. "P-please believe me! There was no one!"

"Malfoy," Ginny said sharply, sickened with pity for the little creature on the floor.

Malfoy continued to ignore her. He turned on Nuly now, and the little elf began to shake even more, her master's towering fury now turned on her. "Where was he, Nuly? Before I met you in the corridor?"

Ginny was confused; it wasn't until Nuly responded that she realized Malfoy was referring to Tasher. "In—in the nursery, Master Malfoy." Nuly swallowed. "And before that—in the north wing, cleaning. I swear it, sir."

At this, Malfoy's anger finally seemed to dissipate, all the tension going out of him. Ginny could not understand it; why Malfoy so readily accepted Nuly's word, when he seemed so mistrustful of Tasher. He rounded on the male house-elf, who was still trembling on the ground. "Tasher," Malfoy said sharply. "Get up."

Quivering, with tears in his eyes, Tasher got to his feet. Ginny felt another wrench of pity for the small creature.

"Keep guard outside, do you understand?" Malfoy ordered. "Don't let _anyone_ in here, Tasher, not a soul. And if you see anyone, you let me know, without being seen. Understand? If you see _anyone_, even my father."

"Yes, Master Malfoy," Tasher whispered. Without another word, he fled the room, leaving as fast as his little legs could carry him.

"Nuly, you stay here, with us," Malfoy commanded, as he strode over to look down on Will once again. His eyes flickered to the bookcase, and then over to Ginny, who was still forcing herself to sit up. "Why haven't you taken that potion yet?" he snapped.

"Malfoy, will you _please_ explain to me what just happened?" Ginny said crossly, ignoring his demand.

Malfoy sighed, running a hand through his hair. "The first security scan indicated something on the edge of its perimeter—off in the back, where the woods start, you know? Where you ran off to, that one time. But the spell barely extends that far; it gets weak there, so it could've been anything—an animal, or something."

"Or it could've been an intruder," Ginny said quietly.

"Maybe," Malfoy admitted, "but the second security sweep revealed nothing. If there _was_ someone in the house—"

"There was, they pushed me—"

"I didn't say I didn't believe you, Weasley," Malfoy said wearily. Neither, Ginny noticed, did he say he _did_ believe her. "But if someone was here, they're gone now. For sure." He fixed her with a glare. "So take that damn potion already and get to sleep."

"In here?" Ginny blinked glancing around in surprise. "But where are we?"

"The master suite. My bedroom. It has the tightest security of anyplace in the manor, and besides, I'm not letting either you or Will out of my sight for the rest of the night." He scowled. "Now will you take the potion already?"

Reluctantly, Ginny allowed Nuly to hand her the potion, and she swallowed it in one quick gulp. It was bitter, leaving an unpleasant taste in her mouth. She immediately felt drowsiness returning, sleep beginning to steal over her, and she let it. Breathing out a shaky little breath, she managed to turn on her side, wincing. Curled up in this position, however, eased the pain in her back somewhat; it was the most comfortable she could get. As her eyelids grew heavy, she asked, "Why did you say all that to Tasher?"

"What?" Malfoy sounded distracted, still staring at his system hidden beneath the bookcase. Although, presumably, he meant to sleep at some point, he had so far made no move to undress or get into bed anywhere.

"Tasher. You sounded like you didn't trust him."

Malfoy turned to face her, eyeing her appraisingly, as though to be sure she was falling asleep as she should be. Her position seemed to reassure him, curled up on her side, hugging one of the many pillows surrounding her. "Tasher has been a house-elf in this household for ten years now," he said. "Since before my father went to prison. It's questionable, but his loyalty, technically, should still be to my father."

Ginny blinked in surprise. "You mean, he would obey your father over you?"

"Like I said, it's questionable." Malfoy shrugged, his face creased in a distracted frown. "I've assumed the position of master of this house in my father's absence, but it's not quite the same as it would be if he were dead. I don't think Tasher himself knows what he would do, when faced with my father again. He likes serving me, I think—" Malfoy's eyes darkened "—but my father can be very persuasive."

Ginny shivered. She was too sleepy to put her thoughts together, her brain addled by the painkiller potion, but she realized, now, that Malfoy had not only questioned Tasher specifically about Lucius because Tasher might have to obey him—rather, also because Lucius was the most likely person to have been in the manor. It was unlikely, Ginny knew, that anyone else could have snuck inside.

"Anyway, Nuly here—" Malfoy tossed a nod in her direction "—has been here only for a year. I acquired her, to help me out when Will was born. I am the only master she has ever known; my father would have no compulsion over her."

"Oh," Ginny mumbled, her words marred by oncoming sleep. Her eyes fluttered, struggling to close against her will. She kept them open long enough to see a strange expression flicker over Malfoy's face; she was too weary to tell, but she thought he looked concerned. She didn't have a chance to think anymore of it, however, before she drifted off to sleep.

The potent painkiller did its work well; in spite of her discomfort, she slept quite soundly for several hours. When she woke, sunlight was spilling into the room from a large bay window to the right of the bed; Ginny had not even noticed it the night before. She supposed the green curtains, now pulled aside, had been covering it.

Last night. It all came flooding back to her, the awful memories pushing past the drowsy fog clouding her mind, remnants of the painkiller. She sat up suddenly and immediately regretted the movement; her back seemed to explode with pain, and she collapsed onto the pillows surrounding her.

Blinking painfully, she glanced aside. The rest of the sheets beside her were undisturbed, though the duvet had a slightly wrinkled look, as though someone had lain on top of it.

She was a bit alarmed to find not only Malfoy, but apparently Will, too, gone from the room, but then Nuly came in and assured her all was well, explaining that both Tracey Davis and Pansy Parkinson had come over, at Malfoy's request, to take care of Will. Malfoy himself had gone to Auror Headquarters to report last night's incident.

When she heard this, Ginny wondered why Malfoy didn't just contact the Order. _But then, I don't suppose he trusts us very much_, she reasoned. She thought about contacting Lupin herself, but then realized it was probably unnecessary. If Malfoy was going to talk to the Aurors on his own, it was likely he would ask for Tonks, and she would likely fill Lupin in on the whole thing. And Tracey was here, as well. That all made Ginny feel infinitely safer.

Nuly left, then, and appeared again a few minutes later with a breakfast tray and another painkiller potion, which Ginny put aside, for the time being. She barely acknowledged Nuly, as her mind was caught up in taking note of the room she was in. She'd been so out of it last night that she hadn't noticed much about it at all. It was a massive room, with an odd shape; there were five walls, and the king-size bed Ginny was currently in occupied one wall all on its own. The bay window on her right took up most of that wall as well; the window panes were pearly white, glittering beneath the sunlight shining through.

A large, cushy green armchair occupied the corner beside the window, and opposite the chair were two sliding doors, likely leading to a closet. On the wall on the far side of the room was an impressive marble fireplace, much like the one in the drawing room downstairs. On the other side of the fireplace, a door stood open, and Ginny peered forward to see that it was a bathroom.

The wall directly opposite Ginny was lined with dark, towering bookshelves, including the one which secretly housed Malfoy's security system. That only left the wall to the left of the bed, which held a long, ornate dresser and the door through which they had entered last night.

Candle sconces on the wall jutted out in every corner of the room, though they were unlit and unnecessary at this hour, with the sunlight pouring in through the large window. There was a large nightstand on Ginny's right, where her breakfast try was now resting, as well as another one on the left side of the bed, with a large lamp. The bed sheets were a deep blue, and the heavy duvet which covered them just a shade darker. There were about ten pillows, in total, on the bed, including a few small throw pillows and one long hug pillow, and all of them in various shades of blue, black, and emerald green.

Even though she was reluctant to sleep more, even though she was desperate to see Will, Ginny ate a bit of her breakfast and took the second painkiller with it. Her back was in agony, and the relief the potion brought was worth more sleep and lazing around in bed.

When she woke again, the sunlight coming in from outside was no longer as glaring and strong; Tasher informed her that it was past five p.m. He also told her that Malfoy had been by but had left again almost immediately. Ginny was miffed that Malfoy had been here but had not woken her, and that she was still in pain and unlikely able to make it downstairs to see Will where, according to the house-elves, he still was, with Pansy and Tracey. Instead, she settled for making it across the room, so that she could soak in a long, hot bath while the house-elves finished unpacking.

When she finally emerged from the bathroom, hair damp and wrapped in a robe, Malfoy _was_ back, standing in the doorway to the bedroom. He merely raised an eyebrow when he saw her and said, "I see you took it upon yourself to use my bathtub." His eyes narrowed. "_And_ my bathrobe," and now he sounded genuinely annoyed.

"Yes, I did," Ginny snapped, "and seeing as you weren't here, you have no right to be upset about it. Where have you _been_ all day, you prat? And when can I go back to my own bloody room, _surely_ I'll be safe enough there."

"I'm not taking any chances." Malfoy crossed the room and came to stand beside the bed. "Besides, it makes sense for you to stay here at least a few days, Weasley. I doubt you'll feel like moving around the manor much."

This only heightened Ginny's frustration. It wasn't even so much that she objected to staying in Malfoy's room, it wasn't being around him that bothered her. Rather, it was this idea that she _needed_ to stay around him, that she needed to be looked after and kept safe. This idea that she was helpless. That irked Ginny, and her waspish behavior over the whole thing continued through the evening.

After dinner, Malfoy insisted Ginny get back into bed and go to sleep immediately. Will was already fast asleep in his crib, which still sat in the center of the room. "And where are _you_ going to sleep?" Ginny demanded, as she crawled beneath the blue sheets.

"Er—in here." Malfoy looked confused.

Ginny's eyes widened. "In this _bed?_"

"Well, I guess I don't have to, if you don't want me to." Malfoy looked uncharacteristically uncomfortable. "I mean, I can always just—"

"Malfoy." Ginny flung up a hand to forestall him. "It really doesn't bother me. This bed is big enough for five people."

Malfoy eyed the bed dubiously. "Are we talking about the same bed here?"

"I was just surprised, is all," she added, as she settled down amidst the mountain of pillows. Her back ached surprisingly less than it had earlier. "It didn't look like you slept here last night."

"I did, though." Malfoy looked surprised now. "Or, well—I didn't really sleep. I just sort of lay here and waited until morning came, so I could go see the Aurors."

Ginny turned on her side so she could watch Malfoy, who was pulling pajamas out of his dresser. "What did the Aurors say, anyway? Did you talk to Tonks?"

Malfoy nodded. "And would you believe, by the time I got in to see her, she already knew," he said sourly. "I called Pansy and told her to come over this morning, and apparently she called Davis and asked her to come as well. But before Davis came, she told Pucey, who alerted the bloody Order—"

"So the Order knows." Ginny's relief was cut short as a new thought occurred to her. "Does that mean my family knows about this?" she asked in horror.

Malfoy shrugged. "I don't think so. Tonks didn't say as much, but I kind of had the impression that they didn't want to worry them. At least, not until they have a more concrete idea about how the intruder got in, and whether or not he might be back."

Ginny recalled, then, the last thoughts she'd had before going to sleep last night, and she wondered whether or not Malfoy had told the Aurors that it was probably his father who'd gotten inside. She noticed now that Malfoy did not specify his father as the intruder, and she did not mention him either. "And, er—_do_ you think he'll get in again?"

"If he does, he'll be caught," Malfoy said darkly, unbuttoning his shirt. "There are about ten Aurors patrolling the grounds. And Tasher and Nuly are on guard, too."

"Hmm," Ginny mumbled, sinking back into the pillows. She'd just taken another painkiller potion, and sleep was already beginning to steal over her.

Malfoy had not gone to bed nor even finished undressing by the time she fell asleep a few seconds later. When she woke around midnight, however, the green curtains were pulled shut over the bay window, the doors to the dining room, bathroom, and sitting room (the main entrance to the bedroom) were all closed, the lights were off, save for a single candle near Will's crib, and Malfoy was snoring quietly on the far side of the bed.

She could not get back to sleep. She didn't feel in too much pain, though she was tempted to take another potion just to get back to sleep. It really was incredibly hot in this bedroom, she realized, kicking the duvet and the sheets off of herself. She lay there for several minutes more before sitting up slowly, still hot in the stifling room.

She was wearing her pajama pants, as she had been last night, and that was part of the problem. Normally, she just would've taken the pajama pants off and slept in her t-shirt and underwear, but seeing as Malfoy was sleeping only about three feet away from her, she was uncomfortable with this option. After a few more minutes' suffering and internal debate, she carefully climbed out of the bed. She had several pairs of pajama shorts in her room; she would just put on a pair of those and then, maybe, she could get back to sleep.

She left the room through the sitting room, and after crossing both that room, the parlor, and the foyer, made it out into the corridor. There, she was faced with a problem—she had no idea how to get to her room from this part of the manor. She tried to remember the way they'd come the night before…they'd taken a couple left turns, so if she went right here, and here…and then left, and right again…

After a few wrong turns in the darkness, Ginny made it back out to the main corridor on the second floor, and from here, she knew how to get back to her room. But here, she had to pass the main staircase, the one she'd been pushed down the night before, and as Ginny approached, she found herself irrationally uneasy. As she emerged out into the main corridor, she glanced aside, to her left, at the window which had been open the night before. It was shut and firmly covered by its curtains now, and Ginny quickly turned away from it, approaching the middle of the corridor, where the staircase was.

When she stood only a few paces from the top of the staircase, she came to an inexplicable halt. Her breathing had gone very short and shallow, and she tensed with every little creak the house made, no matter how quiet or distant. Her eyes roved over the shadows at the bottom of the staircase; she could make out dim shapes in the darkness, but nothing more.

She felt ridiculous and afraid at the same time. There were a dozen Aurors outside; even if someone did try to get in, they'd never make it past all of them. There was nothing sinister stirring in the darkness, yet she couldn't seem to rationalize past this dread pooling in the pit of her stomach. She felt like a child, mindlessly afraid of some monster lurking under her bed.

She reached the staircase in a few hesitant steps, but now her pulse was beating so frantically that she didn't think she could take another step; the fear now loomed so largely within her that she could not cross the threshold. She swallowed, squeezing her eyes shut tightly, willing herself to move past the staircase…

"Weasley?"

Ginny stifled a strangled scream at the voice behind her, even though a second later, she realized it was only Malfoy. Clutching the base of her neck with one hand, the other gripping the top of the staircase banister, she turned around and found Malfoy coming down the corridor towards her, his face fixed in a scowl.

"Don't just—just sneak up on a person like that," Ginny snapped, but the retort came out weakly. Relief surged through in place of the adrenaline that had been pumping through her veins, and the effect was leaving her buckling at the knees.

"I didn't sneak up on you." Malfoy stopped in front of her, and Ginny saw now that there was a hint of panic hiding behind the scowl on his face, and she wondered if he'd been worried when he woke up and found her gone. "What are you doing, walking around here in the middle of the night, you stupid bint! And with your back—"

"My back—" Her voice came out hoarsely, and she cleared her throat "—is just a little bruised." Somehow, the argument she had been exhorting so violently earlier now sounded feeble to her ears, or at least, not as important as it had been. Ridiculously, she felt a little lightheaded, and she struggled not to lean on the banister for support.

Malfoy opened his mouth, no doubt to snap back with an angry retort, but he paused, taking in Ginny's white-knuckled grip on the stair's rail, her constricted breathing which she was struggling to even out. His gaze flickered from her to the staircase, then back to her again. There was a knowing gleam in his eyes now, and Ginny hated it.

"I just wanted to get something from my room." Ginny let out a long, shaky breath and gave in to her quivering legs; she sank onto the top step of the staircase, her hand sliding down the banister as she went. "That's all."

Malfoy didn't move or reach out for her, for which Ginny was grateful, but she thought she could feel him gazing down at her. "I could've gotten it for you," he said, after a pause. "Whatever it was." There wasn't a trace of mockery or sarcasm in his tone.

"It's no big deal," Ginny muttered, dropping her forehead in her hand. "Forget it."

Her fears, which had seemed so ridiculous, were beginning to take a more reasonable form, and it didn't assuage her apprehensions at all. She recalled how loathe she had been to the idea of staying in the manor in the first place, while Malfoy was over in the Continent; how the idea of being alone in such a huge, empty place had seemed an incredibly alarming prospect. Now that she lived with Malfoy, those ideas had faded from her mind, but what difference did Malfoy make? He was one person, and around the two of them, it was _still_ a huge, empty place.

Her father's words came back to her, when she'd walked out of the Burrow on Christmas Eve. _We're talking about the Malfoys_, he'd said. _We're talking about you living in that house, with them_….And what had she said? _It's just a house, Dad. There aren't anymore evil diaries stashed away, no Death Eaters lurking in the corners_—

An involuntary shiver ran through her body, realizing, now, how wrong she'd been. No Death Eaters? It was still Malfoy Manor, and any Malfoy, it seemed, could find a way in…including Lucius Malfoy. A Death Eater, and one who had already, as her father had pointed out, tried to do her harm, eleven years ago. For the first time, Ginny allowed herself to admit why she so hated being looked after, why she so hated being reduced to a helpless girl. Because the last time she'd been helpless, it had been at the hands of Voldemort, all those years ago, and the root of all that terror was Lucius Malfoy.

And now she was living in his house. And she thought she was _safe?_

"…don't I send for Nuly, then? She can get anything from your room, anything you need."

Ginny jerked herself out of her preoccupation, focusing on Malfoy's words. She looked up at him, and found him staring back at her with an impassive expression. She didn't know what he was thinking or feeling, but for once, she was glad he was hiding it. Had he shown her compassion, she would've felt humiliated; had he shown her the sneer she remembered from her school days, she would have questioned every decision she'd made regarding him in the past year.

"Malfoy," she said, struggling to keep her voice even, "do you think it was your dad who got in here last night?"

Malfoy's expression twitched, as though his stony façade were about to break down. But a second later, there wasn't a hint of any emotion in his expression, except for a tightening around his eyes. "I don't know," he said shortly.

"_Could_ it have been someone else?"

Malfoy paused before answering, his brow furrowed as though he were considering this very intently. "It's…possible," he admitted, "but…unlikely."

Ginny shook her head. "I don't know what you mean by that."

"It's possible that someone other than my father could have gotten in…" Malfoy sighed and crouched down, coming to sit on the step beside Ginny. "But that someone would have to be _very_ clever, very quick on his feet. And he'd almost certainly have to have gotten some kind of instructions from my father."

"So…it's impossible for someone to get in here without your father at least being in on it?" Ginny said quietly. She felt Malfoy tense beside her.

"_I_ think so," he said, steadily avoiding her eyes.

Ginny opened her mouth, but she wasn't sure how to respond to that. She thought having her suspicions confirmed would either elevate or dampen her fears, but instead, looking at Malfoy and the dismay he was obviously trying to suppress, she forgot about being afraid entirely. She wondered if maybe she should say something comforting, but Malfoy spoke before she could.

"Anyway, it doesn't matter who it was, Weasley." He looked at her now, his eyes hard. "They're not going to get in again, and they're not going to lay a hand on you or Will. Or me," he added thoughtfully.

"No one cares about you," Ginny grumbled.

"And on that note—" Malfoy grimaced at her, getting to his feet. "Do you want me to send for Nuly, or not?"

Ginny forced herself to her feet, moving slowly. Her back was beginning to ache again, the soreness more prominent than it had been before. "Forget it," she said, suddenly feeling that her need for pajama shorts was a little unnecessary. "I'll just get something out of your closet."

"Excuse me?"

Back in Malfoy's bedroom, Malfoy dismissed Tasher, who had been watching over Will, while Ginny rifled through Malfoy's closet until she found what she was looking for—a large Quidditch jersey. She'd actually been looking for a t-shirt, but apparently, Malfoy did not wear t-shirts. Making sure that he wasn't peeking into the closet, Ginny pulled off her pajama pants and her ratty little t-shirt, and then pulled on the Quidditch jersey instead.

Malfoy gaped at her when she came out of the closet. "That's my Quidditch jersey!"

"It's bloody hot in here, Malfoy," she snapped, climbing back into bed. She eyed his silly silk pajamas skeptically. "How can you stand it?"

"I must be cold-blooded," he said dryly.

"Wouldn't surprise me," she muttered.

***

"You didn't have to come here, you know," Pansy grumbled, coughing pathetically into a tissue. "Isn't Weasley all helpless and in danger without you?"

Draco narrowed his eyes at his best friend. They were sitting in the living room of her townhouse, Draco in a large armchair, as far as possible from Pansy, who was curled up on her sofa, surrounded by tissues and blankets, a half-empty bowl of chicken noodle soup on the coffee table in front of her. She looked terrible, and sounded even worse.

"There are Aurors patrolling every inch of my property," Draco drawled, "and anyway, Weasley's been up and about for several days now. She was only a little bruised up, really. And when she heard you were sick, she _insisted_ I come visit you." Draco rolled his eyes, wondering, not for the first time, at the strange kinship that had sprung up between Pansy and Ginny.

Pansy sniffled and got to her feet, picking up her bowl of chicken soup. "Well, at least one of you is considerate." She shuffled out of the room, frowning. "Where is that bloody house-elf? Oy! Twitch or…whatever your name is."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "New help?"

"New, useless help," Pansy grumbled, as she disappeared out the door.

Draco got to his feet after she left, glancing around the room. He really _should_ be getting back to the manor; even with the Aurors patrolling, he didn't like leaving Will and Ginny alone in the evenings. But Pansy _was_ absolutely miserable when she was sick. Any normal person could just take Pepperup Potion, but Pansy had been allergic to one of the key ingredients since she was a child, so she went on for days, coughing and sneezing and just a general mess…

"Draco?" Pansy came padding back into the room, now with a bathrobe pulled on over her pajamas. "Draco, there's an Auror in the Floo that wants to talk to you. She says it's urgent."

"An Auror?" Draco's stomach gave an uneasy lurch. Why on earth would an Auror have contacted him at this hour, at Pansy's house, no less? And how had they even known he was here unless….He swallowed. Unless they'd come from his place. Trying to ignore the alarm bells going off in his mind, he followed Pansy out into the parlor, where he found—his stomach gave another lurch—Tonks waiting, her head bobbing in the roaring fire.

"What's going on?" Draco demanded, dropping to his knees before Tonks could say anything. Tonks had not been one of the Aurors at his place, but it was her he had gone to about the intruder in the first place; so far as he knew, _she_ was in charge of his case. "What's happened, has—"

"Draco," Tonks interrupted. Her brow was furrowed; her usual carefree manner was utterly missing from her face. "Draco, you need to get to St. Mungo's, immediately."

A rush of fear flooded Draco. "What happened? Is it Will, is he—"

"Ginny's in the hospital." Tonks spoke in a clipped, professional tone. "She was attacked. Someone…" She hesitated now, her calm demeanor slipping by an inch. "Someone got into the manor."

"Wh-what?" Draco felt as though all the breath had been knocked out of him. The obvious outcome of this statement was looming large in his mind, but he ignored that implication for now. Some survival instinct was desperately trying to hold his panic back, desperately trying to cling onto some hope that the situation was not the worst. "_Who?_"

Tonks shook her head. "We're not sure. We don't have the full story, yet. Ginny told us what she could, but she was slipping in and out of consciousness, before she was admitted to the hospital. We'll know more once she's been released, and we can question her further."

"And who's looking after my son?" Draco demanded. His thoughts were frantic, all over the place, terrible, awful thoughts flitting in and out as he tried to keep calm. _Someone got into the manor. Someone got into the manor. Someone getting into the manor to attack Ginny wouldn't just leave Will—no!_ "Weasley wouldn't have just left him without being sure he was being looked after, where is he?"

"Draco—"

"_Where is he?_" Draco said fiercely. "Where's my son?"

"Draco, he's—the person who got into your house attacked Ginny and—took him. Took Will." Tonks shook her head. "He's gone."

Draco thought he'd stopped breathing entirely. He stared at Tonks, and now panic flooded his mind, unfettered, letting loose all the terrible images and thoughts, the danger Will was in, the pain and despair Ginny must be feeling. A knot formed in the pit of his stomach, twisting, churning, wrenching until he thought he was going to be sick.

He got to his feet mechanically, feeling his face go blank. He turned and found Pansy behind him, her eyes wide as she looked at him. Whatever she saw in his face had frightened her. "Dr-Draco—"

Tonks was still talking, but he'd turned his back on her; he couldn't hear her anymore. He wasn't sure how he got there, but suddenly he was outside of Pansy's manor, past the Apparition barriers, and without another thought, he immediately Apparated home.

He stormed into the entrance hall, the great oaken doors seeming to burst open at his towering fury. Neither of the house-elves were waiting for him; perhaps they had known that he would be angry enough to strangle them and had wisely stayed away. He didn't know. He didn't care. The manor seemed huger and emptier than ever before, the silence in the entrance hall ringing like a desolate bell, tolling out at a funeral.

"Will?" Draco called out desperately. He would not, _could_ not believe he was gone, he had to be here, he had to still be here… "Will!" he roared.

The silence that met his shout was unbearable. Draco crossed the hall at a near-run, bursting into the drawing room. Then he stopped short, staring at the devastation that met his eyes.

The drawing room was utterly trashed. Furniture splintered, overturned, broken glass covering the floor in a glittering mess. Draco took a step into the room and then stopped when he nearly tripped over something in the doorway. He stepped back, slightly confused, and bent down.

Then his fingers closed, in disbelief, around the little teddy bear Will had been given for his birthday, the one he had refused to part with without causing a fuss. Draco tried to swallow past the lump in his throat, but it seemed to be expanding, cutting off his air supply. He began to shake with terrible anger as he stared down at the stuffed bear, his fingers clenching tighter and tighter around its neck. Then he hurled it viciously across the room. Clutching at his head with both hands, he stalked back into the entrance hall, not quite sure what he was doing. Disbelief mounted into despair as he paced aimlessly across the hall, gripping his hair hard enough to rip it out. It was beginning to sink in now, and the fury in Draco rose to an intolerable level of rage, sending him into an almost crazed frenzy.

He thought, now, of what he had not allowed himself to think of before. Slowly, slowly, he allowed that terrible idea—the idea of his father betraying him, the idea that his father would take his son from him—to take root within him. It ripped a savage hole in his chest, not identical but just as painful as the one that had opened when his mother had been incapacitated.

His father had done it. No, he couldn't—but it had to be. It _had_ to be. No one else could get in, undetected, past all those Aurors, _no one_—

And then, somehow, miraculously, another thought broke through the pain and the rage and the despair. _Ginny_. Draco squeezed his eyes shut, thinking back on the information Tonks had given him. Ginny was in the hospital, Ginny had been attacked, hurt—

Ginny would be able to tell him who had taken Will.

He left the manor and Apparated instantly to St. Mungo's. He was about to head to the inquiries desk when he spotted Tonks and several Aurors standing about in the waiting area. Tonks looked immensely relieved, but also slightly apprehensive, to see him there.

"Where is she?" Draco demanded without greeting, as soon as he reached Tonks' side.

"Being treated." Draco opened his mouth to demand more, but Tonks seemed to know what he was going to say. "She's all right, just a little banged up. They're just looking her over, patching her up." She glanced back at her fellow Aurors. "What we've got from her so far is that she'd just come home from a visit with her brother—with Bill and Fleur," she clarified. "She had Will with her, obviously, and—"

"So why aren't you lot out there, then?" Draco cut in, tossing the Aurors an angry glance. "Why aren't you looking for my son?"

"Draco, of course we are," Tonks said calmly. "The department's on top of it, I promise you. And Remus has some of the Order on it, too, for that matter. We haven't told the Weasleys—" She tossed the double doors leading into the ward a glance. "Ginny asked us not to. She managed that much, anyway, when we got her here."

"Did she—did she say who attacked her?" he asked shakily.

"No." Tonks shook her head. "We asked, but she blacked out before she could answer us. All we know is, she was found by Theodore Nott—"

"Nott? _Nott?_ What on earth was he doing there?"

"Coming to visit you, apparently." Tonks shrugged. "He said he was a friend?"

Draco nodded impatiently.

"Well, he said something about wanting to see if Will enjoyed his birthday present, and that he'd come to tell you Pansy Parkinson was sick, and that you should check in on her," Tonks finished. "Does that all make sense to you?"

Draco nodded, and though it all fit and seemed logical, it didn't quite make sense. He hadn't spoken to Theo in months; that he would suddenly be paying visits seemed a little off. But then, he was friends with Pansy too, and for all Draco knew the two of them had been visiting each other the past few months…maybe he had just really been concerned about Pansy…still, he filled Tonks in on all of this just in case, explaining that he had not had a visit from Theo in a while.

"We'll look into it." Tonks nodded. "We were going to, anyway. Nott found her, and alerted us, which means he got past the Aurors without them seeing him, somehow. He said he noticed some of the barriers down, and some of our men, too, so he rushed in because he thought something bad had happened…which it had, of course."

Draco shrugged, but he was distracted, now, no longer really paying any attention to Theo. He kept throwing glances over his shoulder, towards the double doors leading into the ward. "That's probably all true, but do whatever you have to."

"We will," Tonks promised gravely. "Draco, we're going to get him back. No matter what."

Draco tore his eyes away from the double doors to look his cousin straight in the eye. "I know," he said grimly. _Because if they don't, I will._

Tonks left to confer with her colleagues, and Draco let out a huge breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding, letting himself collapse into a waiting chair. He couldn't sit still. He wrung his hands, scrubbed them through his hair, clenched the arms of the chair. Then he hurled to his feet and began to pace aimlessly, his thoughts scattered.

About fifteen minutes later—though it seemed much, much longer to Draco—a witch in trainee robes came out through the double doors and looked around, before her eyes fell on Draco. She approached him quickly and asked, "You're Mr. Malfoy?"

"Of course," Draco said impatiently. "Can I—"

"Miss Weasley is asking for you," the trainee said briskly. "Come with me."

Without sparing a glance for Tonks and her Aurors, Draco followed the witch through the double doors and down a long, narrow corridor. "She's just been moved down here from Spell Damage on the fourth floor. She—"

"Why was she in Spell Damage?" Draco interrupted. He didn't like any mention of the fourth floor; his mother was kept in a ward up there.

"A Stinging Hex," the trainee explained. "Fairly standard to treat, usually, but it split open some old burn scars she had, and those were trickier to treat…"

The trainee went babbling on about treatment of burns, but Draco tuned her out, swallowing hard. They finally reached a trauma room close to the end of the corridor, and inside was Ginny, sitting upright on a bed while a Healer tended to her.

A choked feeling rose in Draco's throat when his eyes fell on Ginny, taking in the state she was in. 'A little banged up,' Tonks had said. She was an utter mess. He noticed immediately what the trainee had explained to him; her left arm, which had been irrevocably scarred in the battle at the Ministry last year, looked freshly wounded; many of the scars were split open, red and raw, though they seemed to have been covered in some kind of sticky paste.

In addition to the results of the Stinging Hex, a white bandage ran along her hairline, at the corner of her forehead, and the Healer was currently running her wand over a blackened right eye. Her hair was pulled back in a tangled bun, exposing many other bruises along her neck and collarbone. Draco swallowed, irrationally upset by his instinctual reaction to the sight of her, battered and beaten. He had seen far worse; he should not feel so…so…but it was _Ginny_, and she had sustained these injuries trying to protect his son…

She did not immediately notice Draco when he came in, as she seemed to be arguing with the Healer tending her black eye. "Please, just leave it," she was saying, her tone halfway between a plea and an annoyed demand. "And the rest, too, I don't care if I've got bruises, I just want to get _out_ of here—"

"What's going on?" Draco demanded, stepping forward into the room.

Ginny and the Healer glanced around at him in surprise. The Healer spared him half a glance before turning to the trainee, saying, "Good, now that you're back, come and dress these wounds on her arm, they just need bandaging and maybe some…"

Draco barely heard these words, and by the look on Ginny's face, he wagered she didn't either. As soon as she laid eyes on him, guilt, open and undisguised, filled her eyes to the brim, so great and overwhelming that she looked ready to cry, even though her eyes were dry. Draco hated seeing her so guilty, but before he could say anything, she spoke, her voice quiet but trembling. "They won't tell me what happened." Her eyes darted to the Healer, then back to him. "He's—he's gone, isn't he? They took him."

A muscle tightened in Draco's jaw, and he simply nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"Malfoy, Malfoy, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she broke out immediately, her face filled with anguish. "I tried to hold onto him, I really did, and it's my fault, it's all my fault, I shouldn't have—"

"Weasley." Draco forced the words out, though all he could do was shake his head and say, "Don't—just don't. It's not—not your fault."

Ginny bit her lip and glanced down, as the trainee Healer began bandaging around the open scars on her arm, wrapping it from elbow to forearm.

"What—" Draco took a deep breath. "What do you remember, Weasley?"

"What do I remember." Ginny shut her eyes momentarily, either struggling to recall the events, or trying to shut the horrible memories out. "I was with Will, in the drawing room, and I heard—I heard someone talking, out in the entrance hall. I thought it was you, at first, but then I—" She swallowed. "I realized it wasn't. And I was so stupid, Malfoy, I just went and opened the door, and I had Will in my arms, I should've—should've hidden him, or…but I didn't think about it, I just went to look—"

"Weasley, it's—okay, don't—"

"And—I saw him, there, standing just outside the door. He'd knocked Nuly unconscious, I think she was trying to stop him—and then he cast that Stinging Hex at me, and he knew right where to hit—my scars split open, and I—" She squeezed her eyes shut again and shook her head fiercely "—I tried to hold on to him, I don't know what happened—either I let go, or I—was distracted, just for that split second, and he took him from me, I don't…really remember…"

"And then what?" Draco asked, almost wishing he didn't have to ask. The bruises covering her face and neck were a testament to what must've come next.

"He knocked me out, I think….I think he Stunned me, is all. Everything went black." She took a deep, shuddering breath, opening her eyes. "And then, when I came to, everything was _really_ black, all the lights had gone out, and I couldn't see anything—but _h-he_ was still there, and he…hit me a few times…and then…I don't know, I think I blacked out again, he threw me off and I think I hit my head—" She touched the bandage at her hairline. "Anyway, he must've heard people coming, or something, because I blacked out again, and then—well, the next thing I knew, Tonks and some other people were there, and your friend, Nott—"

"What was Nott doing there?" Draco demanded, again momentarily distracted by his confusion. "Did he say?"

Ginny shook her head. "Maybe he told the Aurors, I don't—I can't really remember much, everyone was talking, but I was sort of out of it…" Her voice trailed off miserably.

Draco clenched his teeth. He knew, now, the question he had to ask next, but he dreaded the answer. The answer he was already quite sure of. "Weasley…" He hesitated, before pushing on firmly. "Weasley, who was it? You said…you said you saw him, before he took Will. Before the lights went out."

Ginny looked him right in the eye, and there was a strange mix of anger, fear, and pity in her eyes. "Malfoy, you…were right." She swallowed. "It was your dad."

***

Ginny was exhausted by the time she and Malfoy arrived home at nearly two in the morning, but anguish and guilt overwhelmed even that, imbibing every particle of her being. She'd gotten out of the hospital early, after she and Malfoy convinced the Healers to leave the bruises on her neck alone, but they'd gone to Auror Headquarters with Tonks and been questioned for hours, waited for hours, on any news. But there was nothing immediate, and Tonks had advised them that the best thing they could do was go home and wait for news there, wait to see if anyone contacted them.

Ginny couldn't stand it. She felt more helpless than ever before, a different kind of helpless than the kind she'd felt when she was first attacked, when Lucius had pushed her down the stairs almost a week ago. No, this was much, much worse, infinitely more frustrating and frightening. She'd been attacked and beaten tonight too, worse than she had been a week ago, but her fears for herself were utterly gone. All she could think of was Will, all her anxieties were for him and him alone. She would have gladly taken ten more beatings to ensure his safety, to get him back home.

When they got home, she and Malfoy stood, for a moment, in the entrance hall, as if taking it all in, going over the awful events of the evening. Ginny was abruptly struck by the vastness surrounding her, the hollow, shuttered rooms in the manor, the towering ceiling, stretching far overhead. She recalled, again, her misgivings about staying in this place, her feelings of how eerie the manor was, how ridiculously huge and unnecessarily lavish, and anger suddenly swept through her, a hatred for this place she lived in filling her to the brim. It had betrayed her, this house, it had let in an intruder, allowed him to take her son from her…

After several long moments, Malfoy seemed to come to himself and went off in search of the house-elves, while Ginny went on upstairs to Malfoy's room. The silence of the manor seemed to echo around her, but she wasn't afraid of it anymore, no, she hated it, detested the whole place and everything it stood for…

When she reached Malfoy's room, her gaze immediately fell on the crib, and she was struck with horror, struck, beyond disbelief, by what had happened, that he was really, truly gone. But _no_, they would get him back, they had to, and that was all that was important, she thought to herself. She reached blindly for Malfoy's Quidditch shirt, which was folded on the bed, and went into the closet to change into it, her movements both mechanical and unreasonably vicious at the same time, matching her thoughts. There was no use dwelling on the anxiety, they just had to get him back, [i]had to—

Dressed only in the oversized Quidditch shirt, Ginny stepped back into the room and found Malfoy standing in the doorway, his eyes fixed on the crib as Ginny's had been. When Ginny stepped out of the closet, his gaze snapped up at her, and she caught only a flash of something terrible in his expression before he closed it off. "Nuly was in the kitchen." He cleared his throat. "She's all right; apparently the Aurors saw to her. She was just Stunned. She…" A muscle worked in his jaw. "She said Tasher's hiding in the cellar underneath the drawing room. He won't come out, and he told her she couldn't tell anyone he was there…I think my father ordered him to hide there and stay there."

In spite of what had happened, in spite of the anger Ginny felt towards everyone and everything involved in this, she felt a wrench of unwanted pity for the house elf. "What did you do to him?" she asked, almost afraid to know.

"Nothing," Malfoy said shortly. "I can't deal with him now. If I do…" A shudder ran through his body. "Best he stays where he is, for now."

Ginny nodded. Malfoy stared at her a moment longer, before turning away, bending to remove his shoes and socks, take off his belt, unfasten the first buttons at the top of his shirt. Ginny watched him for a moment before her gaze returned, unwanted, to the crib. This time, her fierce thoughts could not force her gaze away, and she stumbled towards it as if compelled, dreading to see that nothing lay inside.

But she was wrong. Something was inside the crib, and with shaking hands, she reached in and pulled out the little blanket she used to wrap Will in when he was cold. Her hands began to shake more violently, but with unfettered rage. Her fingers clenched around the blanket as though she could strangle the life out of it. Oh, Merlin, how she hated it all. This house, this family, everything that had brought her here, everything that had taken it all away from her…

"I hate him," she whispered.

She heard Malfoy's strangled reply as though from a distance. "What?"

"I hate him," she repeated. Her voice would have been calm if it hadn't been quivering with anger. "I hate him, I hate him, I hate him—" Her voice rose several octaves; she would have been screaming if the words hadn't been coming out through clenched teeth. "I hate him, I hate him, I hate this house, I hate all of it—"

Malfoy stumbled into her line of vision. "Weasley—"

"I hate him!" she raged, and she could hear the note of hysteria in her voice, and she thought she was going to lose herself in the terrible anger. But then Malfoy was there, grabbing her by the wrists, forcing her to let go of the blanket, and she found herself struggling against his vice-like grip as she thundered on, her tirade unrelenting, unstoppable. "I hate him, I hate it all, I _hate_ him, _I hate him_—"

"Weasley, please." Malfoy's hoarse voice broke through the storm raging inside of her. "Please, please don't."

It was the pain in his voice that shocked her, shocked the anger out of her. She stopped struggling against him and looked up into his face, finding tears welling in his eyes, raw, open agony in his expression. And she realized, then, it wasn't true, she didn't hate _all_ of it, she didn't hate him….He was the only person in this house, in this family, in this madness that was a part of something she trusted and needed…

And it was his father. And though Ginny still quivered with hatred at the thought of Lucius Malfoy, she remembered now that Lucius was his _father_, and the betrayal, what he had done….Malfoy looked down at her with a plea in his eyes, a plea for her to stop, so that maybe he could just forget, maybe he could try to ignore the sting of his father's betrayal…

"Malfoy." Ginny broke free of his grip on her wrist and reached up, cupping his face in her hands, wrapping her fingers around his neck. "Malfoy, oh, Malfoy." She dropped one of her hands, gripped his shirt collar tightly. His hands fell from her wrists to grab a hold of her by the shoulders, but now he felt as though he were anchoring himself to her, trying to hold himself steady, rather than trying to restrain her. The tears in his eyes brought her back, as they always did, to the first time she'd seen him cry, when he'd gotten the news of his mother's condition, and she twisted with pity, to think that he'd truly lost both parents now, and his son besides…

Almost without thinking, she stood on her tip-toes and pressed her mouth against his. It wasn't passionate, it wasn't erotic; it was driven by sympathy and comfort. But then his hands tightened on her shoulders and the kiss worked like a transference; suddenly, all his sorrow and guilt seemed to open up similar feelings within her, and it was too much to stand. He seemed to feel the same, and he deepened the kiss, his mouth moving against her desperately, hungrily, his hands roving over her arms and her chest as if somehow, that would make it all go away…

Ginny could feel his tears, wet on his cheeks, and for a moment, she tried to pull back, shaking her head, but no sooner had her lips left his than he whispered, "Please, Ginny, please," and the raw need in his voice was more of a shock than hearing him use her first name.

He pressed his lips against hers again, and she gave in. Suddenly, the horrible pain inside of her seemed too huge and impossible to bear, and it was as if only Malfoy, only this, could manage it. She was tugging and fumbling with the buttons on his shirt without thinking about what she was doing; she only felt that maybe, maybe, if she could get closer to him, it would all go away, at least for a little bit…

Malfoy turned suddenly, taking Ginny with him, and they practically tripped over each other's feet, stumbling back into the massive bed. Ginny tore off the last of the buttons as they got there, and Malfoy yanked his shirt off as Ginny's knees hit the bed and she fell back, collapsing into the soft folds of the duvet. Malfoy leaned over her, one hand on the bed and the other grasping at the hem of her oversized shirt, reaching under it, fingers drifting over bare skin, exploring every curve of her body…

Their lips were still clashing together, desperate for more, desperate to feel more, to feel enough to drive out everything else, drive out the helpless anxiety, the unending guilt….Ginny was still intent on kissing him as she reached for the waist of his pants, and they paused only for a second, as Ginny's shirt came up over her head.

And then there was a longer pause, as Ginny crawled backwards, pulling herself fully up onto the bed, and Malfoy held back, kicking off his pants, his eyes locked on hers. The moment was intense enough that Ginny could almost forget the sorrow threatening to overwhelm her. Malfoy leaned back over her, his fingers playing with the hem of her underwear, and he seemed to hesitate, about to pull away, to stop this.

She didn't want it to stop. She _needed_ this, needed to try and fill this excruciating void opening up inside of her. "Malfoy, please," she begged, echoing his earlier words. "Please, please don't."

He understood, and didn't hesitate a second longer. The last bit of clothes came off in a few quick, hurried motions, and then he was laying over her, and they were closer, deeper, fiercely more intimate than ever before, sinking into each other's souls in a way that was irrevocable and complete.

***

The day dawned less than two hours later, but it was a dreary, sunless day. Draco lay awake as the black of the night faded into a deep violet, and from there, into a murky grey. Ginny had fallen asleep almost as soon as they had finished, and she slept even now, though fitfully, her eyes twitching, her mouth frowning as she mumbled uneasily.

Draco had slept, too, but for no more than half an hour. Then his guilt had pushed him awake, and his guilt had kept his exhaustion at bay.

It had been bad enough, watching Ginny, battered, bruised Ginny, torment herself for being attacked, for something that was not at all her fault. It had been bad enough, accepting that his father was to blame for this tragedy. It had been bad enough, feeling that terrible anger and fear for his son's life. What had been far worse, however, was keeping silent for three hours while the Aurors questioned them.

The guilt, which now threatened to destroy Draco, wasn't borne out of his utter failure to protect Ginny, nor even out of his father's involvement in his son's kidnapping. It was not that his father had taken his son—it was that Draco _knew where he was._

This guilt had begun creeping its way into Draco as soon as Ginny confirmed that it was his father who had attacked her and taken Will, as soon as he'd heard the truth straight from her lips. And he wrestled with himself as they sat in Auror Headquarters, waiting for information, as they were pressed for every little scrap of knowledge they could give, in order to find their son. And though his guilt mounted with every passing second, by the time they'd left for home, Draco had not yet found a way to speak. To tell everything he knew.

He was selfish, weak, and most definitely undeserving of being a father. Because no matter how he'd tried, in spite of what was at stake, he had been unable to betray the man who had so completely betrayed him. Because, in spite of everything the man had done, he was his _father_. And to turn on him like this would be to irrevocably sever all ties with him, to truly lose his father as he had lost his mother. And Draco was too cowardly to do that.

But it came to him, slowly, as he lay awake in the early hours of the morning, the restlessly sleeping Ginny pressed against his side. She was a source of warmth and comfort, and the way she had totally given herself over to him, not two hours ago, had convinced him and strengthened him as nothing else could. And though he dreaded what this would mean, what telling her would do to them, he had resigned himself to the fact that he had to.

He sat up slowly, carefully uncurling his arm from around her, so as not to disturb her. Although he'd come to this conclusion, he could not bear to wake her, but neither could he lie there any longer, contemplating what he was about to do to her. So instead, he got up, pulled on his trousers, and retreated into the adjoining dining room to brood.

He didn't have long to wait, or maybe it only seemed that way to Draco. Ginny appeared in the doorway a short time later, her hair rumpled, dressed in his old Quidditch shirt. She eyed him for a moment, and then asked, "How long have you been up?"

Ridiculously, Draco considered this question before answering. "A while," he said finally. Then, without thinking—because he could do it no other way—he said, "Weasley, I have to go down to Auror Headquarters."

She started, her sleepy eyes sharpening. "Why? Did they contact us? Did someone Floo, while I was sleeping, do you—"

"No, I—" Draco interrupted her, then hesitated. "I don't know anything…new."

"Oh." Ginny slumped against the doorframe, the dejection plain on her face. "But then…Malfoy, you should just stay here, then. I know, I hate waiting around too, but the Aurors said we should stay, in case someone tries to contact us—"

"Weasley, I…" Draco swallowed, not quite meeting her gaze. "I have to go tell them everything I…know."

He still didn't dare look at her, but he could see, even out of the corner of her eye, the way her whole body tensed. "Everything you know?" she said sharply. "What are you talking about, we told them everything we know last night."

Draco shut his eyes briefly, steeling himself, before he finally forced himself to look at her.

A hint of comprehension was showing in her eyes, but there was denial in front of it, keeping it at bay. "Didn't you?" The sharp edge to her voice had been replaced by uncertainty. When he didn't answer, she pressed, "Malfoy, _didn't you?_"

"I have to go tell them—" And now, Draco was amazed by how calm his voice was "—where they are." He met her gaze. "Weasley…I know where he is."

Ginny caught her breath sharply. The comprehension was clear in her eyes now, though still shocked, still incredulous. "Where…where _who_ is? Where _Will_ is, Malfoy, are you saying you _know where he is?_"

"I think so." Draco heaved a sigh. "At least, I know where my father is…where he's been…and you said he was the one that took him."

Ginny's voice was flat with disbelief when she spoke again. "You know where your father is."

"Yes."

"You—you know—and you've _known?_" Her voice rose an octave, but if she was angry, it was still blocked by her shock. Her expression was appalled, and she was practically gasping for breath. "You've known…where you father is—is that what you're _saying?_ Oh, Merlin, what are you saying…"

"Weasley—"

"But you didn't say anything!" she burst out. She stared at him in horror, as it all came crashing down on her. "At the hospital, last night, when we talked with the Aurors…you said…" She let out a breathless laugh, slightly hysterical. "You said what you've always said, what you've _been_ saying, that you haven't talked with your father, that you didn't know…that you had no _idea_…"

"Well, I have," Draco snapped. The way she was looking at him, the things she was saying, cut him to the core, and he lashed out in the only way he knew how. "I have, all right? Don't you get it, Weasley! I told you, didn't I, I told you what I was, and you insisted you knew better, that _I_ was better. But I told you, I _told_ you!"

She recoiled as though he'd slapped her, the stunned incredulity on her face somehow different than the denial she'd worn before. It was disbelief, but it was dazed, resigned. "You told me," she echoed, and her voice was alarmingly toneless. "Everyone told me. My family, my friends, even Pansy, even—" She let out another little laugh, but the sound was dull this time "—even your dad, when he tried to take Will from me, last year, he told me…"

Although he had no idea what, exactly, his father had said to her, he felt himself firing up at these words, at the mention of his son. "Look, I _care_ about Will, all right? I love him, I'm not going to let anything happen to him! That's why I'm going to go talk to the Aurors, I'm going to—"

"You _love_ him?" Ginny stared at him, and the scorn in her eyes was almost too much to bear. "You love him."

Draco clenched his teeth. The hurt her words had caused him was almost fading, quickly being drowned out by the pain of his own guilt. "I'm going to talk to the Aurors now," he said quietly, "and we're going to get him back."

Ginny didn't say anything. She wasn't even looking at him anymore, her eyes fixed on some far away point over his shoulder. "Where is he?" she asked distantly.

"Weasley—"

"_Where is he?_" Her eyes locked on Draco fiercely. "Malfoy, just tell me where he is."

He told her, and her anger was momentarily clouded by confusion. "But…they've looked there, we _looked_ there, Malfoy, that place is utterly deserted—"

"You didn't look hard enough, Weasley," he said bitterly. He didn't need to explain that there were enchantments, wards, dark magic beyond imagining protecting the place. She would understand.

She nodded, almost absently, taking this in. Then she seemed to come back to herself, starting to see herself standing there, before him. "Merlin, what am I still doing here?" she muttered. And without another glance or word for him, she fled the room.

For a moment, Draco didn't move. For a second, he let her go. He had told her, hadn't he, he'd warned her that this goodness she saw inside of him was nothing but a lie. His own words haunted him, coming out of his memory, crystal clear. _What do you think you know about me, Weasley? Anything you've seen, anything you think you know—don't you get it? It's all just lies! Lies you've told yourself, false images you've stocked up to make yourself feel better—_

But this self-hatred lasted only a moment, and then loneliness loomed over him, and he felt desperately afraid. He could not lose her. Not her, not Ginny; everything else, everyone else he had lost and he could not lose her—

He ran into his bedroom, but she was not there. He dashed out of the master suite, down endless corridors, thundering down the stairs until he reached the drawing room. She was not there either, and he prayed that she had not Flooed out, because if she had, he was too late. He barreled into the entrance hall, but there, he found only Nuly, quivering and upset. She looked up at her master with wide eyes.

"Where is she?" Draco bellowed.

"She's—she's gone, sir."

"Where did she go?" Draco turned desperately to the house-elf, and he was almost pleading with her. "Where did she go, tell me!"

"She—she said 'I'm going home.' And now…she's gone."

Draco felt as though he'd been punched in the stomach, as though all the breath had been knocked out of him. He turned away from Nuly, staring at the great, oaken doors in disbelief. "But this—_this_ is her home," he said, his voice wretched. "_This_ is her home!"

In a single, violent slash, the hole in Draco's chest ripped open, and a blackness darker than death surfaced, swallowing him whole. The agony of his loneliness was now complete, and it crashed over him, bringing him to his knees, blocking out the world and everything in it. He sank into a pit of despair so deep that nothing could bring him out of it, and he did not emerge.

- - - - -

**Author Notes:**  
So, interesting little fact: when I wrote the original version of this fic, like, five years ago, _I_ myself had just had a real life of experience of falling down some stairs and bruising my back up like Ginny. So if I remember correctly, that's where the inspiration for this came from. Although I wasn't pushed, like Ginny. I'm just a klutz.

I hope you felt the scene between them where they sleep together was, er, sufficient. In the original version, it was much longer and a bit smuttier, but because of that, it came off wrong. Some readers were left with the question of 'Um, why are they sleeping together when their son is missing?' I don't think I originally conveyed well enough that it was about trying to make themselves feel better, so I endeavored to do that in this version of the fic.


	18. Chapter Seventeen

**Author's Notes: **Sorry there was a bit of a delay with this chapter; I had to get all moved in and settled here in Los Angeles.

I had expected there to be a bit more action in this chapter, but it turned out more transitional. Still, some things are revealed here, so I think it's fairly exciting.

__________________________________________________

**Chapter Seventeen**

*******

In her desperation to get out of the manor, Ginny had paused only to pull on a pair of jeans and some shoes, before fleeing beyond the Apparition barriers outside and Apparating away. She had not showered, she had not properly dressed, she had not tamed her wild hair, she had not tended to the bruises on her neck. So when she Apparated directly into the kitchen in the Burrow, she was a total wreck.

And worse than that, even. Because, in spite of the time it had taken her to run from Malfoy's bedroom and Disapparate, it had not quite sunk in yet. The shock and grief was still rolling over her in waves, so when she appeared in the kitchen in the Burrow, she was not quite aware of what happened around her. She did not really register her mother rushing over to her in instant concern, she only distantly heard her mother's frantic call for her father, and his subsequent footsteps, thundering down the stairs. Her parents' voices, as they hovered over her, only made it worse, because they reminded her of another time when they'd spoken to her, when they'd cautioned her against living with Malfoy.

She shrank away from those memories, because every thought seemed to puncture a new hole in her heart. Still, she could not seem to get past everything that had just happened, not enough to do more than stare vacantly into her parents' faces, not enough to answer their worried queries. But then her father peered closely into her eyes and said, "Ginny, who hurt you like this? Was it Malfoy?"

Ginny stared at her father, his question echoing in her mind. _Who hurt you like this? Was it Malfoy?_ And her mind answered fervently, yes, yes, it was Malfoy, Malfoy who brought her into his home and his life, Malfoy who made her trust him and depend on him, Malfoy, the one person she had been closer to than anyone else, and Malfoy, who had betrayed all of that…_yes_, it was Malfoy who had hurt her…

But she realized, distantly, that her father wasn't referring to any of that, but to the bruises on her neck, the bandages wrapped around her arm and at her forehead, and this finally brought her back to the present. Slowly, her eyes focused on her father's face, and she said hoarsely, "No. No, Dad, it wasn't him." She could not quite bring herself to actually speak Malfoy's name.

"Then who, Ginny?" her father demanded fiercely.

Ginny blinked and looked around, taking in her surroundings. Yes, she had Apparated to the Burrow; she stood in the kitchen, now. It was still quite early in the morning, but her mother stood before her, one comforting hand on her shoulder, the other resting gently atop her head. Her eyes were full of shocked concern as she looked over Ginny's injuries.

Her father stood beside her as well, and though his gaze was fierce, it reassured Ginny; it made her feel safe and protected. And she needed that, as she felt so very fragile right now. Recalling her father's question, she cleared her throat and said, "It was…a Death Eater, Dad. Some Death Eater." In spite of her anger towards Malfoy, she did not dare mention Lucius' name. She was too afraid that might set her father off, and she found that she did not want to worry him or her mother more than they already were.

"Why? When?" her father pressed.

"Ginny, what's happened to you?" her mother asked softly.

Ginny looked at her mother helplessly. Molly Weasley's eyes were mutely perceptive, and Ginny thought, maybe, that her mother had looked past her physical injuries and seen something more in Ginny's eyes, the more unbearable pain that lingered in her gaze. "Mum, they—they—" Ginny's voice came out in a croak. "They t-took Will, Mum, they took him from me."

Her father's eyes lit with comprehension, and her mother murmured, "Oh, Ginny," before pulling her daughter into her arms, smothering her in a tight embrace. And Ginny did not fight her; she allowed herself to sink against her mother, allowed her mother to comfort her. Tears pricked her eyes, though by the time her mother stepped back from her and led her over to the kitchen table, her eyes were virtually dry. Still, she took a shuddering breath as her mother eased her into a chair, trying to regain her composure.

Her mother had turned away briefly, to rummage in a cabinet in the kitchen, and when she returned, she had her wand and several ointments in hand.

"Oh, Mum, I'm fine, I don't need all that," Ginny hastened to say. She glanced up and gave her father, who stood beside them, a tremulous glance. "I've already been to St. Mungo's, they patched me up—" She reached for the bandage at her forehead and began peeling it off. "I probably don't need this anymore…"

"Oh, let me, sweetheart." Her mother batted away Ginny's fingers, gently prying the bandage off. They'd Healed it easily and given her dittany, so when she felt along her hairline, there was no scar or mark to feel at all. "But, Ginny, these bruises! Why they didn't Heal them…"

"I asked them not to," Ginny said hoarsely. "They're just bruises, Mum, and I just wanted to get out of there—"

"Ginny." Her father's voice was stern, but Ginny could tell his tone was not for her. "How did this happen?"

Her mother shot him a meaningful look, as though warning him not to press her, but Ginny opened her mouth and suddenly everything was spilling out. As her mother ran her wand over the bruises on her neck, healing them one by one, Ginny told them everything, beginning with the 'intruder' coming into the house, pushing Ginny down the stairs. She told them about all the precautions they'd taken, the Aurors who'd come to patrol the grounds. When she told them what had happened last night—that someone had gotten in, taken Will, and given her a good beating before the Aurors finally came in—her mother cried out softly and took Ginny's hands, and her father's face went very white.

"And now he's g-gone." Tears had welled in Ginny's eyes again, but she did not break down. "He's gone, and I have to get him back, Mum, I have to—"

"Shh, shh, Ginny." Her mum ran a soothing hand over her hair. "I'm sure the Aurors will do everything they can to find him. You talked to them, I'm sure, told them all this?"

Ginny stiffened at the mention of talking to the Aurors, all the hurt and anger Malfoy had just caused her rushing back, opening new wounds. "Yes." She swallowed. "Malfoy—Malfoy's gone to talk to them again, he, erm…thinks he might have remembered some stuff. You know, that could be important." She felt the anguish creasing her face as she said this, and she dropped her head, afraid she would lose control of herself.

Her mother only continued to soothe her, but her father, a far more perceptive man than most people realized, seemed to have picked up on her pain regarding Malfoy. "He didn't…do anything to you, did he, Ginny? Draco?"

"No, no." Ginny waved her hands hastily. "No, of course not." Her father looked unconvinced, and her mother more concerned than ever, so she admitted, "We just…we had a terrible row, this morning." She dropped her gaze, fiddling with her hands in her lap. "About—about Will, about all of it." She rested an elbow on the table and dropped her head into her head, closing her eyes against the memories of everything…not just Malfoy's betrayal, but before that, the time they'd spent together…for them to share _that_, and then for him to _do_ this to her….It still made her so angry, caused her such pain.

"Oh, Ginny." Her mother's voice was no less reassuring, though there was an uncertain note in her voice now, too. "I'm…sure you're both just…worried. About the baby. You're both just worried and upset. You'll…work it out."

"Yeah." Ginny rubbed her eye, appalled to find a tear spilling over. "Yeah, I guess."

"Oh, sweetheart." Her mother took Ginny's face in her hands. "I am so, so sorry this happened to you. Let me make you some tea," she said, standing abruptly, "and some toast—"

"Just tea, Mum, thanks." She smiled weakly. "I'm not hungry."

Her father took the opportunity to take the seat across from her, but before he could say anything, Ginny turned to him with tormented eyes.

"Dad, I'm so sorry," she said in a rush. "About what happened, last Christmas, I never should have left like that, after saying all that and—"

"Ginny, please." Her father held up a hand to forestall her. "We were all at fault. I…regret that things turned out the way they did," he said slowly, as though he were considering his words carefully, "because this was obviously all more…important to you than we realized. We shouldn't have spoken to you as we did."

"But neither should I have," Ginny protested.

Her father smiled in good humor. "Then let's chalk it up to a misunderstanding, and move on from there."

Ginny let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, immensely relieved to hear her father say those words. "Thanks, Dad."

"Bill told us he sees quite a lot of you, Ginny," her mother said, bustling over with a cup of warm tea. "He and Fleur. He told us about little William's birthday—"

"Oh, yeah, thanks for the presents." Ginny managed a grateful smile. "They were great, Will loved everything. And I loved the cake," she added, for her mother.

"Oh, well." Her mother blushed modestly. "I'm sure you've had much better food these past few months, cooked by house-elves—"

"Are you kidding?" Ginny said indignantly. "That cake was the best thing I've eaten since Christmas! I'm ashamed to say I ate almost the entire thing by myself," she said, managing a weak laugh. "Malfoy was so put out that I only let him have a little slice, but then, he…owed me…" Her voice trailed off, the thought of Malfoy bringing another sharp stab to her gut. She bit her lip, willing herself to remain composed.

Her mother and father were both quiet for a moment, watching her silently. Then her mother spoke, and she sounded hesitant, "Ginny, you know, Bill—he wasn't so sure, at first, about you…moving in with Draco. Well, none of us were, of course," she added with a nervous laugh, "but he changed his mind, I think, Ginny. Bill. He says he's seen you often since Christmas, and, well—he says you seem…different. Happier, maybe."

"I guess." A lump rose in Ginny's throat. "I was, I think I was." Her voice trembled as she added, "But now I've messed that up, too."

"Ginny, Ginny." Her mother took her by the shoulder, forcing her to look her in the eye. "You've got to hope for the best, sweetheart, and…focus on getting your little boy back."

Ginny nodded slowly. "You're right, Mum."

Her mother laughed, ruffling Ginny's hair. "I always am." Ginny threw her a startled look, and her mother blinked. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No." Ginny shook her head, a small smile threatening her face. "It's just—I know someone else who says that." She stood abruptly, a new determination awakening in her. This visit with her parents had put things in perspective, and though she was still hurt and angry with Malfoy, she realized now that none of that mattered. She could work that out later. Now, she had to focus. She had to focus on getting Will back.

"I have to go," she blurted out. "I'm sorry, but I really need to…get down to Auror Headquarters. Try and meet up with Malfoy there, and see if there's any news—"

"Of course, Ginny." Her mother pulled her in for one last hug, and when she let her go, her dad did as well. "But come back, won't you? We want to help you, Ginny, however we can."

"Sure, Mum, Dad." She spared them a quick smile. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

She Flood to the Ministry and, after registering herself as a guest, hurried down to Auror Headquarters, where she used to work. But when she got there, her efforts were to no avail. Not only was she informed that Malfoy hadn't been by all morning, but when she told them she had information regarding the Death Eaters' whereabouts, she was waved off. They refused to believe her.

"Ginny." The Auror, Carmichael, whom Ginny had once worked with, shook his head wearily. "We've searched that place a million times, you know we have. There's nothing there. _You've_ searched it yourself, you know there's not—"

"But I'm _telling_ you, we were wrong," Ginny insisted. "We didn't look hard enough, all right? We missed something. Look, you should just get the best experts we've got on dark magic, and head over there to check it out—"

"Well, I think it's a waste of time." Carmichael shook his head. "But if you really insist, I'll let someone know. It'll have to wait, though, everyone—"

"Wait? _Wait?_ Eddie, don't you understand, this can't wait! There are Death Eaters out there, and they've got my son—" She broke off in exasperation. "Look, where's Tonks, can I just talk to her?"

"She's not here," Carmichael said flatly, sounding impatient. "She's out with everyone else, looking for the kid. Look, Ginny, just go home, all right? I'll fill Tonks in when she gets back, and we'll be in touch. Okay?" He narrowed his eyes, a sudden suspicion there. "Unless…where is it exactly you got this information from, Ginny? Why are you so sure they're hiding out there?"

Ginny stared at him in dismay. If she told them she'd heard it from Malfoy, they'd certainly take her more seriously, but…she would also implicate Malfoy. And as ridiculous as it was, after everything that had happened between them, she was reluctant to do so. It was one thing for him to come down and talk to the Aurors himself, but for her to turn on him was beyond despicable, no matter how he'd hurt her.

So with a last, grated, "Look, just tell Tonks about it, will you?" she stormed out of the office, fuming. But, of course, Malfoy _hadn't_ come down to talk to the Aurors; he'd insisted he was coming straightaway, but according to Carmichael, he was not there and had not been all morning. And now the Aurors were refusing to help her, too. This was beyond ridiculous.

An idea formed in her mind, then, and she was frighteningly sure of it. Of course—if no one was going to help her get her son back from the Riddle House, then she'd have to do it herself.

***

Draco seemed to have been buried beneath a thick pile of dirt. He was vaguely aware of the world around him, but everything seemed muffled, voices were faint, and his sight was clouded by darkness. There was a very dull ache, somewhere around his chest, and it seemed to Draco that if he were to try and emerge from the pile of dirt, the pain would grow sharper, stronger. So he was content to remain where he was.

He was not quite sure how he got here, but again, when he tried to think about it too much, this also made the pain in his chest stronger, so he tried not to recall those memories. After some time, however, thoughts began to float across his mind unwillingly, forced through his head by some distant voice, outside of the pile of dirt.

_Ginny…Will…Ginny…Will…_

Both names sharpened the ache in his chest, but they seemed incredibly important, perhaps important enough to resurface, in spite of himself. So he struggled out, driven by curiosity more than anything else, and the distant voice became more distinct. It was a squeaky kind of voice, but determined and loud.

"Master Malfoy! Master Malfoy!"

Draco blinked, and the shadows darkening his vision began to dissipate. A hazy face swam in front of his eyes, a strange sort of face. Not human.

"Master Malfoy, you must wake up! It is me, Tasher! I has come to wake you up!"

"Tasher?" Draco mumbled.

"Yes, you must wake up! You must get back Miss Ginny and Master Will!"

Sharp pains punctuated his chest at those two names, and for a moment, Draco was tempted to drift back beneath the dirt pile, where things were muffled and indistinct and virtually painless. But again, something besides the ache stirred at those names, something important, something he should remember.

"Master Malfoy, it is me, Tasher!"

"Tasher," Draco repeated. He suddenly remembered why _this_ particular name seemed so strange, and he felt himself straighten. He came to himself suddenly, glancing up and focusing on the house-elf's face in front of him. "Tasher," he said again, his voice sharper this time.

If Tasher was cowed by the fierce note in his master's voice, he didn't show it. His face was pinched with determination, and a touch of relief, now that Draco had recognized him. "Master Malfoy," he said, "you must get up now!"

"Tasher." Draco narrowed his eyes as he felt, for the first time, the stiffness in his legs, the cold air pricking his bare chest. "How did you get up here? I thought you'd been ordered to stay in the basement and not come out."

"I is—I is getting him for you, Master Malfoy." Nuly suddenly tottered into view, trembling meekly. "Because you is not answering me, so I—told Tasher he must come help you." Her own voice took on a note of determination now. "I told Tasher that Mister Lucius is not his real master, anyway, and that he shouldn't listen to him. I told Tasher you is needing his help, so he—he came."

Draco blinked. He looked from Nuly to Tasher. "You came back up here without orders?" he asked Tasher.

Now, Tasher did begin to shake slightly. "Y-yes, Master Malfoy. To help you, sir, like I has helped you before."

_Helped me before_. Abruptly, Draco realized what his house-elf was talking about. Back when his mother had been hospitalized, Draco had wandered around the manor for days like a zombie. He had been mobile, but he hadn't eaten, or slept, or spoken. At least, this was what Tasher had told him; Draco himself didn't really remember this period. He had only begun to snap out of it when Tasher had begun to purposely do things to anger Draco, and this anger had slowly pulled him out of the daze he was in.

Draco looked at the little house-elf now, and felt a surge of gratitude for Tasher's defiance. Besides, in coming out of the basement on his own, hadn't Tasher proved that he didn't have to obey any orders that Draco himself had not given him? Of course, the elf was probably already planning ways to punish himself later.

"Nuly's right, Tasher," Draco told the elf. "My father isn't your master, not anymore. So I'm—I'm glad you came out of the basement, and you…don't need to punish yourself for it. In fact, I forbid you to punish yourself for it."

Tasher shot him a grateful look. "Thank you, Master Malfoy, sir."

Draco rubbed a hand over his face and glanced around. He blinked beneath the lights' glare overhead, which seemed harsher than usual, and he rose unsteadily to his feet, his legs stiff from kneeling in one position. "What time is it?" he demanded.

"It's almost ten in the morning, sir," Nuly answered him.

Ten. _Ten?_ Had he truly been sitting here, in the entrance hall, for almost three hours? No wonder his legs were so stiff. Draco stretched them out, wincing slightly, and cast his thoughts back.

Ginny. The ache in his chest intensified into a sharp, stabbing pain, and the force of it almost drove Draco back to the ground. But Tasher's determined edict came back to him then, and he realized this was what had truly brought him around. _Ginny and Will. I have to get Ginny and Will_. The thought of facing Ginny again, after what had happened between them, frightened Draco a little, but thinking about his son brought his resolve around. And at any rate, he had to try to bring her back. He could think of no other way to assuage the pain eating him up inside.

"Nuly," Draco said sharply, "get my cloak ready, I'll be back down here after I've dressed. I'm going to the Burrow. Tasher, come with me."

The house-elves scurried to do his bidding. With Tasher fetching things for him, Draco dressed quickly and then found Nuly waiting with his cloak in the drawing room. The last time he had visited the Burrow, almost a year ago now, he had simply Apparated inside, but considering how things stood now, he supposed traveling by Floo powder would be more polite. Besides, last time he had been lucky in that only Ginny had been at her home. He didn't count on being so lucky this time.

He was right in predicting his fortune, because when he arrived in the fireplace at the Burrow, coughing and blinking through ash, he was immediately met by one of the Weasley twins. By the time he stepped out of the fireplace and had cleared his eyes enough to see, the twin had a glare on his face and his wand out, pointed directly at Draco.

"What do you think _you're_ doing here, Malfoy?" the twin growled.

Draco eyed him warily, vaguely wondering which twin this was. He noticed, then, that this was the twin who was missing an ear, but then he realized that he didn't really remember either of their names anyway.

Mustering up the politest tone he could manage with a Weasley, Draco said, "I'm here for Ginny."

"She's not here," the twin retorted.

Draco narrowed his eyes. "She said she was coming here." Well, she had said she was going 'home,' and he could only suppose she had been referring to the Burrow. She had no other home that he knew of. _Except for the manor_, he thought with a pang of distress. He shoved that aside.

"George? George, who're you talking to?"

Draco looked around reluctantly as Molly Weasley came bustling into the room from the kitchen. Her eyes alighted on Draco immediately and she said, "Oh!" with some surprise. "Mr. Malfoy. Can we…help you?" Before Draco could answer, she flickered a glance over at her son—George, apparently—and disapproval flashed across her face. "George! Lower your wand this instant!"

"After what happened to Ginny," George said grimly, "I don't think so."

Draco bristled at this. "_I_ didn't do anything to her." He realized, with some guilt, that this was not entirely true. But he hadn't been responsible for her _physical_ injuries, or for Will being taken, for that matter.

"Of course not." Although Mrs. Weasley hastened to say this, her lips pursed firmly, as though she didn't quite agree with her own words.

Draco stifled a sigh and said, with as much patience as he could muster, "I'm just looking for Ginny."

"Oh." Mrs. Weasley looked faintly surprised. "She's not here."

Draco frowned. "She said she was coming here. I think."

"She _was_ here, earlier," Mrs. Weasley said briskly, "but then she went to meet you, I thought. At Auror Headquarters," she added, when Draco turned a puzzled glance on her.

"Oh." Draco couldn't quite suppress another guilty start. "I…haven't gone, yet. I thought—I should go over with Ginny, erm, together."

George, who still had his wand trained on Draco, seemed to ignore this last part. "You haven't _gone_ yet? Ginny said you might have some more information on the Death Eaters, why haven't you gone yet?"

Before Draco could summon a retort to this, a _pop!_ of Apparition sounded out from the kitchen, and then a male voice called out, "Mum? Anyone here?"

"We're in here, Bill, dear!" Mrs. Weasley called back.

A second later, Bill Weasley, whom Draco _did_ remember to be the oldest of Ginny's brothers, joined them in the tiny living room. Draco had seen Bill before, at the Order meeting following Gabrielle's death, and before that, when he and Tonks had come to rescue him and Ginny in Paris. But looking at Bill now, Draco felt, for the first time, a stirring of consternation within him. The sight of Bill's hideously scarred face had never really hit Draco with such impact before, as it did now, and he couldn't quite say why. All he knew was, it was suddenly very difficult to look the man in the face, knowing full-well that Bill had been so maimed the night Draco had let Death Eaters into Hogwarts. The night he had let Greyback into Hogwarts.

Bill, however, did not seem to notice Draco's discomfort. He met Draco's gaze quite steadily, his expression calm. "Malfoy," he said with a nod.

"Weasley." Draco forced himself to return the man's gaze, inclining his head.

Bill eyed the wand in George's hand questioningly. "Expecting an attack, George?"

"George, I told you, put your wand down now!" Mrs. Weasley scolded him. "Or Merlin help me, I'll hex it away from you!"

Reluctantly, George lowered his wand, though he continued to glare at Draco. Mrs. Weasley explained to Bill, who still looked a little quizzical, "Draco here was just looking for Ginny."

"Isn't she here?" Bill looked even more confused.

"No." Mrs. Weasley shook her head. "She's at Auror Headquarters, from what I understand."

"Not anymore, she's not," Bill replied. "I was just there, well, with Dad, at his office. Apparently, Ginny went to talk with the Aurors earlier, but she didn't get very far with them. She told them she had some new information regarding the Death Eaters' whereabouts—"

George put this together instantly, and his wand arm twitched, as though he were struggling not to raise it again. "You _know_ where the Death Eaters are, Malfoy?" he snarled. "And you haven't _told_ anyone?"

Draco grit his teeth. "I…_think_ I might have some idea," he snapped back. Just because he'd been entirely honest with Ginny didn't mean he had to be with her family. "It only just occurred to me this morning."

Bill raised an eyebrow. "Yes, well, Ginny told the Aurors about it, but unfortunately, Tonks wasn't in, and it seems the Aurors she spoke to wouldn't take her seriously. Said the place had been searched already, and that she didn't have enough reason to back up her suspicions."

Draco frowned, ignoring the Weasleys for a moment, as he was distracted by his thoughts. _Didn't have enough reason to back up her suspicions?_ How could that be? Hadn't Ginny told them she'd heard the news straight from him? Then again, he supposed, if she had, there would have been Aurors knocking at his door over an hour ago. So she had kept silent about him. Why? Surely she didn't care a whit about him anymore, not after what he'd done to her.

"…she must have come back here," Bill was saying, a frown creasing his forehead. "But you say she hasn't been back here?"

Mrs. Weasley shook her head, concern in her eyes. "Not since she first came by this morning. Draco, perhaps she's gone back to your…manor?"

"I just came from there," Draco said, a trifle impatiently. "Unless I just missed her, she's not there either."

"Where's she gone then?" George demanded.

Draco's blood went cold then, as a terrible possibility occurred to him. If the Aurors had not taken her seriously…no, surely she wouldn't have. Surely she would not have been so colossally stupid and gone on her own?

Of course she would have. She was an idiotic, reckless, noble Gryffindor, after all.

"Look," Draco said uncertainly, drawing the gazes of the three Weasleys. "I'm…going back to the manor, just—just to be sure she's not there. Erm—maybe you lot should contact Lupin, see if she went to talk to him, maybe? To get the Order's help and all." He hoped that she _had_ thought to go to the Order before harping off on her own, but it was a feeble hope. He knew angry, rash Ginny all too well.

"All right." Mrs. Weasley looked slightly perplexed. "But Draco, maybe you should—"

He didn't hear the rest of what she'd said; he'd already Apparated back to the manor. It didn't seem at all likely that Ginny was there, considering she'd apparently been missing since she'd gone to see the Aurors earlier, but maybe…just maybe…

Neither Tasher nor Nuly were waiting for him when he burst into the entrance hall, which Draco found slightly odd. Still, he didn't think much on it; he simply strode into the drawing room, his mind fixed on Ginny. "Weasley? Oy, Weasley, are you here?"

"I don't think she is, Draco."

Draco gave a start and whirled around, his eyes falling upon the man lounging in the corner. "_Theo?_ What on earth on you doing here?"

Theo smiled lazily at him. Draco had not seen his friend in quite some time, though he looked much the same: tall and thin as a rail, with untidy, mousy hair, and skin nearly as pale as Draco's. He twirled his wand absently in his hands. "Your house-elves let me in," he said, his tone mild. "I hope you don't mind. I just came by to check on Miss Weasley. She was in a _very_ bad state when I left here last night."

"But you haven't seen her since then?" Once again, Draco's confusion over his friend's presence was obscured by his concern for Ginny. "She isn't here?"

"No. She's been released from the hospital, then?"

"Yes, last night." Draco frowned, glancing around, as though Ginny might be lurking in a corner as well. "But now she's missing. She was at her parents' this morning, but she's not there anymore, and no one seems to have seen her."

Theo shrugged, looking thoughtful. "You don't think…perhaps the person who took your son got to her as well?"

"They have no reason to," Draco said, his voice aggravated. "I mean, they left her here, last night, after taking him." He swallowed, meeting his friend's gaze. "Theo, it…was my dad. Who took my son, I mean."

"I figured as much," Theo said nonchalantly. Had he been anyone else, Draco might have been disturbed by Theo's blasé attitude, but Theo rarely showed much emotion about anything. And anyway, his thoughts were too preoccupied to pay much attention to Theo's behavior. It was his next words, however, that finally grabbed Draco's attention.

"Funny thing," Theo murmured.

"What?" Draco demanded.

"Well, I was just thinking…I mean, she _is_ a Weasley, after all, and a former Gryffindor at that. Don't you think she's probably gone after your son on her own? To Little Hangleton, I mean."

"I did think maybe—" Draco broke off suddenly, taking in these words. He threw Theo a sharp glance, as a foreboding chill ran down his spine. "Hang on. Did you just say…to Little Hangleton?"

Theo lifted an eyebrow and nodded, completely unruffled.

Draco felt his mouth go dry. "How could you possibly know the Death Eaters are hiding out there? At the Riddle House?" he asked tensely.

Theo smiled faintly. "Didn't you know?"

"Of course I did," Draco said tightly. _It can't be, it just can't…_ "But then, I'm a Death Eater. Sort of." He kept his gaze steady on his childhood friend. "And no one else knows where they are…no one else except Death Eaters."

Theo's smiled widened. He was still tapping his wand absently against his palm, and slowly, Draco tried to reach for his own wand—

"I wouldn't, if I were you." Theo snapped to attention suddenly, his wand now pointed directly at Draco. "Don't make another move."

"I don't believe it," Draco said hoarsely, his voice filled with disbelief. Theo. _Theo?_ A Death Eater? Even now, with his friend's wand trained on him, he couldn't quite bring himself to believe it. The idea was absurd. Theo detested Death Eaters even more than he did.

"Well, that doesn't surprise me," Theo said lightly. "You were never very clever, Draco."

Ridiculous as it was, in spite of the situation he was in, Draco bristled at this insult. "I always made better marks than you in school!" Draco said hotly.

"Only because I didn't care enough to try." Theo looked amused.

"How long?" Draco demanded. "How long—have you…" He couldn't bring himself to articulate the question.

"How long have I served the Dark Lord?"

"The Dark Lord is finished, you idiot!"

"Not for good," Theo contradicted. "Not forever. And I have been one of his followers since before Potter tried to finish him. Since before you were found and put in prison." Theo smiled again, though Draco felt his friend looked a little deranged now. "I suppose you could say I got my inspiration to follow him from you, Draco."

"You've got to be kidding me." Draco's gaze darted towards his friend's left arm, which was bared by his rolled-up sleeve. "You haven't got the Dark Mark!"

"Well, I didn't officially become a Death Eater until after the Dark Lord was…defeated." Theo's mouth twisted around this last word. "So being branded with the Mark hasn't been possible for me. It doesn't make me any less loyal a follower." Theo's eyes passed over Draco's arm now, though his own Mark was hidden by the sleeve of his robes. "Unlike you. You know, you might want to reconsider where your _own_ loyalties lie, Draco. Considering the Death Eaters have your son, and likely—" He gave a harsh laugh "—Ginny Weasley now, as well."

"They won't have them for long," Draco retorted.

Theo snorted. "What, you think you're going to save them? Sorry, Draco. The Death Eaters have other plans for you." Before Draco could ask what these _plans_ might be, Theo tightened his grip on his wand, which was still leveled at Draco. "_Stupefy!_" he commanded.

Draco had no time to deflect the curse. Everything went black.

When he came to, he found himself unable to move. He realized, a second later, that this was because he was tightly bound to a chair, his arms tied back and his legs secured together by a Leg-Locker Curse. He couldn't move an inch. He glanced around wildly, and barely made out the form of Theo in the dim light. "Where are we?" he demanded, eyeing the shadowed room around him.

"My place," Theo said breezily. "In the cellar."

"This is so stupid, Theo," Draco groused. "My father's going to be furious when he hears about this."

"How do you know I'm not here on his orders?"

Draco paused to consider this, and was forced to admit it was entirely possible. After all, his father had betrayed him in every other way. Still, he tried to force a confident note in his voice as he replied, "You're not."

"Well, you're right about that," Theo said carelessly. "Your father doesn't carry enough weight to give orders anymore. Though he sometimes is allowed _some_ say in what goes on, if your aunt is feeling…generous."

"My aunt?" Draco said sharply. "You mean Bellatrix? I thought Greyback was in charge."

"Please, Draco." Theo came around from behind him to look him in the face, rolling his eyes. "As though we would actually take orders from a werewolf. He's not even a real Death Eater—"

"Well, neither are you," Draco muttered.

"—he's only allowed in because he's…well, shall we say, useful?" Theo grimaced. "And we allow him to _think_ he's in charge because frankly, I suppose we're all terrified he'll kill us if we don't." Theo laughed, as though the idea of the werewolf killing them all was amusing to him. "But no one really follows what he says. No one of import, anyway."

"So it's my aunt, then," Draco deduced. "You're taking orders from her?"

"Yes." Theo's eyes gleamed in the darkness, and Draco thought, with a shudder, that he could see a bit of the same madness there, that he had often seen in his aunt's eyes. "Yes, your aunt took an interest in me, once I'd officially joined up. Probably because _you_ were such a disappointment to her."

Draco rolled his eyes.

"She has taught me every Dark spell she knows," Theo went on, seeming to relish the idea of performing Dark Magic. "Ways to torture people, hurt people…ways I'd never even imagined."

"Where is all this coming from?" Draco suddenly burst out. "Theo, when we were kids, you didn't give a damn about Dark Magic. You hated Death Eaters! You used to laugh at me for wanting to be one."

"Yes, when we were kids." Theo's eyes hardened. "But then I realized…what being a Death Eater could gain me."

Draco opened his mouth to retort, but then shut it, a thought occurring to him. He stared at Theo for a moment, and then said, "This is about your father, isn't it? About what he did, to your mum?"

"Don't you mention my mother, Malfoy!" Theo bellowed suddenly, and the look in his eyes was quite mad. "Don't you dare mention her!"

Draco sighed, more annoyed than alarmed by this show of deranged fury. Yes, it was quite clear that Theo had been hanging around his aunt for too long. She was clearly rubbing off on him. "Well, what are you planning to do to me, then?" Draco demanded, dropping the subject of Theo's mother. "You said my aunt taught you…ways to torture people." Draco swallowed. "Is that what you're going to do to me?"

"Hardly." Theo snorted. "Though it might give us something to do, if I get bored. No, I've merely been instructed to hold you here, Draco."

"Why?" Draco eyed Theo suspiciously. "What was the point in taking my son, then? Surely the Death Eaters want me going after him, surely they wanted to lure me there to them?"

"Taking your son was your father's doing." Theo's voice held a hint of distaste when he mentioned Draco's father, as though he had no respect for the man. "He acted on his own, without even telling Bellatrix about it. If I didn't know any better…" Theo pursed his lips, looking thoughtful "…I'd say he was planning to spirit your son off somewhere on his own. Without even letting the rest of us know about it."

"What?" Draco was startled by this. "What do you mean? Why would you think that?" Against his better judgment, a glimmer of hope awoke in Draco, hope that perhaps his father had not so entirely betrayed him as he thought.

"Well, he seemed rather dismayed to see me at your place last night," Theo said casually. "No, he didn't look happy to see me at all, when I showed up. He'd already Stunned Weasley and taken your son by then. He assured me he was taking the baby to your aunt, however, and then he fled almost before I could say a single word to him."

Theo's words sunk into Draco slowly, and it was a moment before he entirely processed this. "But—then—he fled…" Pieces suddenly fell together in Draco's mind, and he looked at his old friend with horror and anger. "It wasn't my dad that beat up Ginny then, was it?" he demanded, his voice made hoarse by his astonishment. "It was—it was _you?_ My dad left, and then—and then _you_ beat up Ginny—"

"Yes, well, sometimes the most fun can be had from the simplest of methods," Theo said, without a hint of emotion in his voice.

"You bastard," Draco swore. There was some relief, to find that it had not been his father who had so mistreated Ginny, but his anger and disgust for Theo far outweighed any of that. "You bastard, I can't believe you _dared_ to lay a hand on her—"

"She's a blood traitor, Draco," Theo said coldly. "Or have you forgotten? She deserves far worse. Unfortunately—" He clicked his tongue, looking truly disappointed "—the Aurors showed up then, and I had to pretend as though I'd found her."

Draco didn't say anything. He was seething with anger, silently fuming at the man he had thought to be his friend. He was sick, twisted, he'd actually had _fun_ hurting Ginny…

"You're very upset with me, aren't you, Draco?" Theo smiled smugly. "I _told_ your father that you have feelings for that blood traitor whore, but he refuses to believe me. His faith in you is…rather misplaced."

Another surge of anger rushed through Draco when Theo called Ginny a 'whore,' but the mention of his father—at his father's _faith_ in him—actually brought a surge of guilt. After he had completely lost his own faith in his father… "Hang on," Draco said, as he recalled Theo's earlier words, "but then…you said you thought my dad was planning to spirit off Will on his own? So he may not even be in Little Hangleton, then—"

"Oh, he is," Theo cut in. "He's there with your son. I got word to your aunt about it as soon as I could, and she answered back with confirmation that he'd taken the baby there. I'm not convinced about him, though." Theo frowned. "After all, after I'd seen him with the kid, what could he have done but taken it to the rest of the Death Eaters." His frown deepened thoughtfully, as he mused over Lucius' intentions.

"Why're you holding me here, then?" Draco demanded in exasperation. "Are you saying my aunt doesn't _want_ me turning up there?"

"Of course not," Theo said derisively. "She's rather pleased that your dad brought the baby to us—that was to be the plan, eventually—but not to lure you there. She wants you under her thumb, Draco. She wants you where she can control you." Theo fixed him with a piercing gaze. "She wants you back in the fold."

A muscle tightened in Draco's jaw, and he had to suppress his initial reaction—_That's not going to happen_—because how could he say that, when they had his son? He had feared that this would happen, even before Will was born, he had feared this because he knew, if they had his son, he _would_ do whatever they wanted. He had no choice. Just as he'd had no choice, back in sixth year, to put his very best efforts into killing Dumbledore, to save his own life and that of his parents'…

"Yes." Theo smiled, seeming to see the resigned acceptance in Draco's expression. "You have no choice. No more running errands for the Order, Draco. Now you're doing _our_—"

"I haven't been running _errands_ for the Order!" Draco snapped.

"Oh, really?" Theo raised a skeptical eyebrow. "So that time you spent in France was, just, what? A little holiday? Because you certainly weren't _really_ trying to make allies over there, Draco. Or didn't you think Jacque Barret didn't notice those Muggle children went missing just after he'd revealed to you that he was holding them in his home?"

Draco went cold. "What are you talking about?"

Theo smiled thinly. "What am I talking about," he murmured. "You know what I'm talking about, Draco. Gabrielle Delacour? You didn't really think her death was an accident, did you?"

Draco felt as though he'd been dealt a heavy blow. His ears were ringing, his dark suspicions confirmed. Hearing it for sure was far more painful than he thought it would be. "Of course I didn't," he managed to get out, between clenched teeth. "I swear, Theo, you'll _pay_ for her—"

"Well, I wasn't the one that killed her." Theo laughed. "I was never in France. And anyway, it's _you_ that you should be blaming. You're the one who led us to her, and for what?"

Draco opened his mouth to swear violently at the man, but just then, a flicker of movement caught his eye, back in the shadows behind Theo. Draco had to force himself to keep the shock off his face when he saw who had come down the cellar stairs, and instead, he threw his gaze back to Theo, thinking desperately of some way to keep Theo's attention on him.

"Why wait so long to kill her, then?" Draco demanded. "If that's _really_ when you found out about her, why wait?"

"Well, she was useful, of course," Theo drawled. "Feeding her false information, and all that. And we hoped _she_ might lead us to other spies and traitors like yourself, but when that proved a fruitless endeavor, we went ahead and just—"

_Whack._

Theo crumpled to the ground in an unconscious heap, his eyes glazing over before he could even register any shock at being hit over the head. Standing just behind him was Pansy, still in pajama pants and a sweater, and in her hands was her weapon of choice—a very large soup pot.

"Just came to say thanks for the _soup_, Theo," Pansy muttered. She eyed Theo distastefully a moment longer before turning to Draco. "Ugh, and to think I ate all that soup. Who knows what he could've put in it?"

"How the hell did you get in here?" Draco demanded. "And will you get me out of here, please?"

Pansy smirked as she raised her wand to sever the ropes binding Draco to the chair, and to undo the Leg-Locker Curse. "I really _was_ just coming to return this soup pot to him, Draco. And would you believe, his house-elf not only let me in, but told me I could find him down here in the cellar. Apparently, Theo needs to give his servants more detailed instructions, when he's down here torturing people."

"He didn't torture me." Draco rubbed absently at his wrists as he got to his feet. "Unless talking me to death counts."

"Was he in on all this, then?" Pansy looked suddenly serious. "Does he know where Will is?"

"_I_ know where Will is," Draco said grimly, "and by now, Ginny's there too."

"_Weasley?_ She went off after him on her own? Bloody stupid of her."

"Yes, well, now I've got to do the same thing." Without waiting for a response from her, Draco turned on his heel, making his way for the stairs. "Contact the Aurors so they can take this sorry sod into custody, won't you?"

"Draco, wait." Pansy caught a hold of his sleeve, pulling him to a halt. Her eyes were wide and horrified. "You're going after him, too? You're going straight to the _Death Eaters?_ Draco, you can't! Just go tell the Aurors—"

"The Aurors are being difficult, and I don't have time." Draco wrenched out of her grip. "Look, they've got Ginny by now, all right? And seeing as they already have my son to keep me in line, they've got no reason to keep her alive. I _have_ to get over there, now." And before Pansy could protest further, he sprinted up the stairs and out of the house.

***

As an Auror, Ginny had searched the Riddle House in Little Hangleton herself, and she hadn't been the first one to do so, either. After what had happened to Harry during the Triwizard Tournament, after Dumbledore had discovered that Voldemort had been hiding out in his father's old manor, the Aurors had immediately searched the place and, even after finding nothing and no one, continued to keep a close eye on it. Still, their 'close eye' had not really been all that close, at least, not until after the battle at Hogsmeade, when Voldemort was defeated and the Death Eaters forced to vacate Malfoy Manor. At that point, several places had been searched as possible hideouts for Death Eaters, including the Riddle House, which had been searched, to Ginny's knowledge, at least five times in the years after the battle at Hogsmeade.

Still, that had been while she was still an Auror—and Ginny hadn't been an Auror for a year and a half now. The last time that she knew for certain the place had been searched was October, nearly two years ago. Which, as far as Ginny was concerned, was plenty of time for the Death Eaters to set up shop. And that's if they hadn't been there in the first place—Draco had hinted as much, when he told her they hadn't 'looked hard enough.' It was clear that the Death Eaters had set up all sorts of dark enchantments as protection spells.

And one of those spells, which she was counting on, was probably a spell that would let them know the second another witch or wizard was approaching the house. It's the only way they could've made sure they were entirely hidden, when searching Aurors came to call. So Ginny didn't worry about getting into the house, about finding the Death Eaters. They would find her.

It was a stupid plan, to walk right into the Death Eaters' waiting hands, but she could think of no better idea. Sneaking in, taking Will back, and sneaking out was the ideal plan, of course, but as none of the Aurors had been able to 'sneak in,' Ginny was quite sure she would have no chance of it, either. No, the only way to reach Will was to let the Death Eaters take her to him. And then, she supposed, she would have to bargain her way out. Or at least, bargain Will's way out. And as she was willing to do just about anything to secure this, she Apparated straight onto the large lawn outside the Riddle House and approached the decrepit old building boldly.

She couldn't Apparate directly into the house, as the Aurors had set up Apparition barriers around it; they had done that much, at least. Still, Ginny had no doubt that the Death Eaters had managed a way past this, a way to get in and out of the house undetected. They had managed it with Hogwarts, after all.

So Ginny appeared out in the lawn, Apparating there as she had before, as an Auror. And then, gripping her wand tightly, she approached the front door. Several complicated locking charms had been put on the door, but again, as an ex-Auror, Ginny was aware of all of them, and knew how to undo them. She performed the spells quickly, opened the door, and stepped inside.

The old manor was utterly dark inside, and the air was damp and musty. A shiver ran down Ginny's spine, but she suppressed her apprehensions and raised her wand into the darkness. "_Lumos_," she murmured.

The light from the tip of her wand exposed a long, narrow corridor ahead of her, and a winding staircase just ahead, on her right. Squinting to see better, to make out the shadows, she took a step forward, preparing to head up the dusty staircase—

She never got the chance. She heard no incantation; the only warning she had was a glimmer of red spell light, flaring up behind her. Then everything went black, and she sunk into unconsciousness.

When she came around, groggy and moaning, several minutes later, she was in a rather small room that looked something like a study. A single candlestick, standing atop a desk, was the only light in the room, but it was enough that Ginny could make out her surroundings, once she had blinked away the stars dancing in front of her vision. The walls of the small study were lined with unsteady-looking bookcases, which were mostly empty, save for a few dusty books here and there. The desk, in the corner opposite Ginny, was also virtually empty, save for a stack of parchment and a few quills. And of course, save for the dark-robed man sitting behind the desk.

Ginny didn't recognize the man—the Death Eater, she presumed—but as soon as she registered his presence, she sat up quickly. Or at least, she tried to. With a grunt, she fell back against the wall, realizing her hands had been tied behind her back and she'd been sitting slumped upon a short ottoman. Her attempt to get up drew the Death Eater's attention, and he looked over at her with a sneer.

"Who are you?" Ginny demanded. "Where's Will?"

The Death Eater, who was a fairly small man, with a head of dark, scruffy hair, only glared at her in silence. He didn't seem all that concerned that Ginny might try to escape, and indeed, before she could even try and think of a way to do so, the door to the small study opened and another man strode inside.

This man, Ginny recognized. It was Lucius Malfoy.

He shut the door quickly behind him and barely spared Ginny a glance before turning to his fellow Death Eater, who had sprung to his feet as soon as Lucius walked in. "Get out in the corridor and watch for anyone coming along," Lucius ordered, his voice pitched low. "Stall, if you have to."

"But what are you going to do with her?" the other Death Eater demanded, tossing a nod in Ginny's direction.

Lucius looked vexed. "I don't have much choice," he growled. "Travers saw Jugson carrying her up here. The others know she's here."

"And?"

"And they're all cowering down in the basement, thinking a contingent of Aurors or Order members are coming for us," Lucius snapped impatiently, "but that hardly matters. I already told Bellatrix I'd be bringing the girl down in a few minutes, so we can all decide what to do with her."

Ginny went cold at this remark about 'deciding what to do with her,' and hearing Bellatrix Lestrange mentioned didn't help. On the other hand, she was a little confused; Lucius and this man sounded reluctant to hand her over to the rest of the Death Eaters. But that was ridiculous; why wouldn't they want to hand her over?

"What do you need me to stall for, then?" The other Death Eater sounded exasperated. "If Bellatrix is already—"

"I don't have time to explain everything to you, Avery!" Lucius hissed. "Just get out there. I need to have a few words with Miss Weasley here." He looked around then, finally turning his full, cold gaze on her. "Alone."

Avery still looked disgruntled, but without further argument, he hurried outside, shutting the door swiftly behind him. Lucius had not removed his gaze from Ginny, and his lip curled with contempt as he stared at her. Ginny stared defiantly back.

"Where is Will?" she demanded, as soon as Avery was out of the room.

"I wouldn't worry so much about my grandson right now, if I were you," Lucius said, his words stiff. "I'd be more worried about your own life."

"I came here for him," Ginny said evenly, refusing to show even an inch of unease or fear. "Kill me or do what you want with me, just let him go."

"I'm not the one you need to convince of that, you foolish girl, so keep your demands to yourself and listen very carefully," Lucius snapped. He threw the door a glance over his shoulder, and Ginny thought he actually looked nervous. But, like his son, he seemed quite capable of disguising any unease he might be feeling, and when he turned back to Ginny a moment later, his expression was cold and unfeeling once again. "In a few minutes, you will be standing in front of every Death Eater hiding in this house. _I_ am going to propose what we should do with you, and _you_ are going to agree. No matter what," he added with a glare.

In spite of the fact that Ginny had told him she would do just this, a streak of defiance ran through her, an unwillingness to do anything he asked. She tried to push this aside, staying firm on her line. "As long as Will is released safely," she said coolly.

Lucius looked frustrated. "I can't promise that."

"Then why should I agree to do anything you ask!"

"Because if you don't, you will not only be certainly condemning yourself to death," Lucius said, his tone suddenly unruffled, "but also Will and probably Draco as well."

Ginny recoiled involuntarily. She swallowed, trying to think of some way around this, but that was difficult when she didn't fully understand what was going on. "Why would you care what happens to Will and Draco anyway?" she seethed. "If you cared anything about them, you would never have brought Will here in the first place!"

"Believe me, it wasn't my intention," Lucius drawled, folding his arms over his chest. His stance and tone of voice reminded Ginny irresistibly of Draco, and she repressed a shiver. "_I_ intended to get…Will…" His mouth twisted around Will's name "…as far away from the rest of the Death Eaters as possible."

Ginny narrowed her eyes. Was she actually supposed to believe that? "Then why didn't you?"

"Because Theodore Nott walked into the manor last night, just after I'd gotten young William away from you," Lucius said calmly. His eyes darkened when he mentioned Theodore Nott.

"But…" Ginny was now thoroughly confused, and she momentarily forgot all her suspicions. "But…what has Nott got to do with anything?"

Lucius stared at her silently for a moment, as though sizing her up. Finally, after tossing another quick glance in the direction of the door, he said, "Theodore Nott is a Death Eater. And unfortunately, quite a fanatical one. He'll do anything that my crazed sister-in-law asks him to."

Ginny felt as though she'd been doused with a bucket of ice cold water. "N-_Nott?_ A…Death Eater?" She shook her head in disbelief. "That can't be…" Malfoy had said he'd trusted Nott. She'd let Nott into the manor the very same day an intruder had come into the manor and pushed her down the stairs…

Ginny didn't realize she'd spoken this last bit out loud until Lucius said, "Yes. I believe he gave my grandson a birthday gift, did he not? It was my understanding that the gift had some kind spell on it. A spell that would negate part of the security system protecting the manor." Ginny thought she must have looked only more confused, because Lucius added, "It gave him more time to wander around the manor. Without being detected, that is."

It was a few more seconds before Ginny pieced everything together, before she realized what Lucius was saying. "But—then—" She shook her head, struggling to process all of this. She was so thrown that she didn't even question if Lucius was telling the truth. "Are you saying it wasn't _you_ who broke into the manor that night, and pushed me down the stairs? It was…it was _Nott?_"

"Of course that's what I'm saying, you stupid girl." Lucius rolled his eyes, again, in a very Draco-like manner. "You may be a dirty blood traitor, but I would never resort to such crude methods to—"

"And then, it was Nott that beat me up last night, wasn't it?" Ginny said suddenly, interrupting him. "It wasn't you. You'd already left."

Lucius' brow furrowed, and it was his blank expression that convinced Ginny of his sincerity when he said, "I have no idea what you're talking about, girl. I hexed you, to get the child away from you, I Stunned you, and I left. Just as Nott showed up."

As ridiculous as it was, considering the situation she was in, considering what Ginny knew this man to be capable of, she suddenly felt a little less afraid in his presence, or at least, a little less helpless. A little less like a victim. Because it had not been him that had stalked her in the darkness of the manor, it had not been him who had beaten her so brutally.

No, that, apparently, had been Theodore Nott. And though this had seemed, initially, incredibly unlikely, Ginny didn't really have all that much trouble accepting it as truth. She did not know Theodore Nott, and if she was honest with herself, the man had unsettled her a little, when he'd come to visit on Will's birthday. And though Malfoy claimed to trust him, he had also, Ginny remembered, seemed very surprised and baffled that Nott had come to pay him a visit at all.

"Enough of this," Lucius said impatiently, breaking into her thoughts. "I don't have time to explain every detail of my motives to you, girl. Now, if you will just agree to go along with whatever I propose to the other Death Eaters—"

"What are you going to…propose?" Ginny couldn't help it; her voice trembled a little as she asked this question. She was almost afraid to hear the answer.

Lucius' eyes bored into her. "Something that will keep you alive. As well as Draco and my grandson."

A surge of anger rushed through Ginny. "What do you care if I'm kept alive?"

"Suffice it to say, I have my own reasons." Lucius sneered. "Reasons that will serve my own purposes. Don't think for a minute that I am at all concerned about your well-being, because I couldn't really care less what happens to you."

_Tell me something I don't know_, Ginny thought sourly. "And Will? Fine, he'll be kept alive, but will he be released? Out of here?"

"Not right away." Lucius looked frustrated, though whether by Ginny's questions or the situation with his grandson, Ginny couldn't tell. "But it will, at least, buy me time to get him away from here."

"But not back to Draco," Ginny guessed, another surge of anger flowing through her.

"He isn't safe with Draco, in case you hadn't noticed!" Lucius hissed. "_I_ can take him somewhere safe. _I_ can send him someplace no one will ever find him! Someplace where he won't be used," he added, sounding as though he were trying to calm himself.

His last words—_someplace he won't be used_—shocked Ginny. It was exactly the very thing she had been striving for, the same thing Draco had been striving for. Before she could sort out whether she could trust this—because truthfully, it did not fit with Ginny's encounters with Lucius in the past—there was a pounding knock on the door. Cursing under his breath, Lucius spun and opened the door, just barely. "What?" he demanded.

"What's taking so long, Malfoy?" This voice was unfamiliar to Ginny; it was not the same man, Avery, whom Lucius had been speaking with before. "Are you bringing the girl down or not?"

The annoyance disappeared entirely from Lucius' face, and his expression smoothed into an impassive look. "Of course I am, Travers, so you can run down and tell Bellatrix to be patient. Jugson was a little too enthusiastic when he Stunned her, that's all. It took me a while to get her coherent." Pausing only to shoot Ginny a dark, warning glance, Lucius grabbed her by the arm and hauled her to her feet. Unable to protest, Ginny was forced out into the corridor alongside Avery and another Death Eater, Travers, whom she recognized from photographs from her days as an Auror.

Neither Lucius, Avery, nor Travers said a word to each other as the four of them went swiftly down the winding staircase, and from there, down another long flight of stairs leading off from a door in the kitchen. Ginny, too, remained silent, thinking desperately of a way to turn this to her advantage, of a way to be sure that Will could get away from here.

But nothing came to her. The situation looked quite hopeless.

The stairs leading off from the kitchen opened up into a large, dark basement. For a moment, Ginny blinked in the darkness, unable to see anything, but then Lucius' cold, drawling voice sounded out, saying, "For Merlin's sake, it's only us. Somebody get a light, already."

Ginny winced in the sudden, harsh light that filled the large basement, and then she found herself facing a large group of Death Eaters, most of them garbed in dark robes. Lucius had said they were 'cowering' in the basement, but none of them looked very afraid to Ginny. Mostly, they looked angry, arrogant, contemptuous.

Then one of them pushed her way forward out of the throng, and Ginny instantly recognized Bellatrix Lestrange, her proud face angry, her hooded eyes a little wild. "Are you sure it's only the one?" she snapped at Lucius, tossing a nod in Ginny's direction. "No one else is coming?"

"Of course I'm sure," Lucius said impatiently.

"Did you question her?" Bellatrix turned her feverish gaze on Ginny, and there was a sort of hungry anticipation in her eyes. Ginny felt a chill run down her spine. "Thoroughly? Perhaps _I_ should—"

"Later," Lucius interrupted. "Plenty of time for that later." He flung Ginny forward suddenly, releasing her to let her go sprawling onto the floor before the Death Eaters. He, Travers, and Avery closed in behind her, and she found herself suddenly surrounded. With no way out.

"So," Bellatrix purred, staring down at Ginny with her gleaming eyes, "I was right then. You came for the Malfoy boy, didn't you, you stupid girl? You came, all alone, for the ickle baby boy."

Some of the Death Eaters snickered. Ginny drew herself up as bravely as she could, sending a glare right back at Bellatrix. "Yes, I did," she said, without batting an eyelash. "So let him go already, and you can do whatever you want to me! Just let him go."

"Let him go?" Bellatrix laughed, a maddened laugh. "And why would we do that? Give up our hold on Draco? No, I don't think so, Weasley brat. I don't think so."

"Our hold on Draco?" This new, guttural voice sounded almost more like an animalistic growl than a human speaking, and Ginny repressed a shudder as Fenrir Greyback shoved himself forward, violently pushing several other Death Eaters out of the way. Thankfully, he did not turn his disgusting gaze on Ginny at all, but rather, fixed Bellatrix with an angry glare. "Our way to lure him here, you mean! What use do we have for Draco anymore? He's betrayed us!"

"He can still be useful," Lucius said sharply, throwing the werewolf a dark look.

"Useful," Greyback sneered. "As useful as he was killing Dumbledore. As useful as he was rotting in prison, as useful as he was fighting against the rest of us at the Ministry last year!"

"He made some contact with…friends of ours, in France," Lucius said stiffly. "He hasn't entirely turned his back on us. He can still—"

"His motives in France were questionable," Bellatrix cut in.

Lucius turned on her with a tight glare, as though he felt she had just betrayed him in some way. She didn't seem to have noticed. Greyback took advantage of this, however, putting in, "That's right, that's right, everyone knows he spent his time in France acting spy for that Order scum! He's good and well betrayed us, and the only _use_ he has left is to provide us with some satisfying…entertainment, before he dies." Greyback chuckled evilly, and the sound chilled Ginny to the bone.

Some of the Death Eaters, mostly those clustered around Greyback, were grumbling in agreement with his words, ugly expressions on their faces.

"I disagree," Bellatrix snapped, and now Lucius looked exasperated, as though he wished Bellatrix would pick a side and stay on it. "Using his son against him, Draco can be used to make him do whatever we want! And considering the alliances he _has_ made with that wretched Order, he can gain much information for us. He's never been more useful!"

Greyback snarled at her in disagreement, but Bellatrix seemed to have dismissed him entirely. She didn't seem the slightest bit worried that quite a number of Death Eaters were backing Greyback up, or that the werewolf himself was looking very angry. She flicked an uncaring hand in Ginny's direction and said, "If you really want someone to play with and kill, you can have the Weasley girl. As long as _I_ get to have my fun with her first," she added, her eyes alighting in that frightening, feverish way once again.

Ginny tried to swallow the horror rising in her throat, threatening to choke her, but then Lucius spoke up, his voice deceptively casual. "I wouldn't be so hasty with the girl, Bellatrix," he said. "After all, she said we could do…anything…with her, so long as we let the child go. She would be willing to do…_anything_…as long as the baby is allowed to go free, unharmed."

Bellatrix turned on him with a glare, her eyes suspicious. "I'm not letting the boy go! He's our only hold on Draco!" Comprehension dawned on her face then. "Unless, of course, you're suggesting we use the Weasley girl instead. According to Nott, she might be just as effective in gaining a hold over Draco."

Lucius showed only contempt for this suggestion. "Yes, well, I have my doubts about Nott's observations," he said, his tone slightly disgusted. Ginny was having a little trouble following the different factions at work here, but she could only suppose that Lucius' disgust was for the idea that Draco cared anything about Ginny. "So that was not my intention, no."

"Then why on earth would we let the boy go?" Bellatrix nearly shrieked.

Lucius moved to her side swiftly, and then paused to confer quietly with her, so quietly that Ginny could not hear what he was saying. When he finished, however, a slow, wicked smile spread across Bellatrix's face. "Yes," she said, almost purring with pleasure. "Yes, she would be a perfect way to…handle that particular problem."

"What problem?" Ginny demanded hotly.

"Silence, you filthy little blood traitor!" Bellatrix spat, suddenly turning her wand on Ginny. Ginny refused to recoil from the threat, and it was just as well, because Bellatrix cast no hex or curse upon her.

"So, then," Lucius said evenly, eyeing Ginny for a moment, before turning back to Bellatrix. "You agree, then?"

"Yes." Bellatrix's smile widened, which unsettled Ginny even further. "Yes, an excellent idea, Lucius." She paused to exchange a triumphant smirk with him, before turning back to Ginny. "You say you'll do anything, brat, if we let the child go, unharmed?"

Ginny shot Lucius a suspicious glance, trying to figure out what he was thinking, what he'd said to Bellatrix, but she couldn't read anything in his icy expression. "Are you really going to let him go?" she demanded.

Bellatrix laughed. "Of course we will."

Ginny did not believe her for one minute. Lucius stepped forward then, however, claiming Ginny's attention. "We'll let him go," he said with a sneer, "but only if you agree to our terms. Only if you agree to do exactly as I say."

_Exactly as I say_. Ginny licked her lips, staring up into Lucius' cold, pale face, a face that was so like Draco's. She thought back on the deal he'd tried to make with her in the study upstairs. He'd seemed sincere in his desire to keep Will safe. _Can I trust him?_ she thought desperately. What other choice did she have, at this point?

"All right." Ginny swallowed, wondering just what she was getting herself into. "Yes. I'll do whatever you want."

- - - - -

**Author's Notes:**

Hmm, so apparently Draco and Ginny did not appear together in this chapter at all. That will be rectified next chapter.

I hope the revelation of Theo being the bad guy didn't seem to come out of nowhere. In the original version, Theo actually showed up more earlier in the fic, kind of like Pansy, but I ended up having no room or use for him in this version, until now.

And in case you were a little confused when Theo was talking to Draco about Gabrielle and the 'Muggle children' in France, you were supposed to be. That was only a hint of what happened over there; you'll find out more about that next chapter. As well as Draco mentioning things about Theo's mum and dad - that's not supposed to be entirely clear either.


	19. Chapter Eighteen

**Author's Notes:** Well, I finally got the original version of this fic deleted over at Schnoogle! And I apologize to anyone who liked the original or wanted to read it, but with the revised version up, I didn't want the original hanging around. This new version is much better, in my opinion (writing, character, and plot-wise), and anyway, the original is not compliant with the coming sequel. And I didn't want anyone getting confused. I probably will post this revised version back on Schnoogle, though.

Speaking of the original, for those of you that _have_ read it, don't jump to any conclusions about what the Death Eaters do to Ginny, per Lucius' suggestion. It was made very clear in the original version, but it's not quite the same now, so. Just wanted to let those of y'all know.

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**Chapter Eighteen**

*******

Ginny slumped to the floor of the dark, dusty attic of the Riddle House in defeat. Not even an hour had passed since she'd been presented to the Death Eaters and Lucius had told her what he wanted her to do, but it felt much, much longer to Ginny. Now that all that was over, they'd locked her up here, in the attic, without giving her any indication of what they meant to do with her next.

She'd fought to get out, at first. As soon as the attic door had swung shut, she'd begun banging at the door in the floor, stomping her feet, pounding her fists, cursing and yelling for them to let her out. But she'd only been met by scornful laughter on the other side of door, not to mention, she was fairly certain she heard someone cast a powerful locking charm.

After pitching that fit for about ten minutes, she gave up, turning away to sit on the floor, weary and resigned. She wanted to keep banging at that door until she punched a hole through it, but the horror of the situation was bearing down on her, compounding on her already exhausted mental and emotional faculties.

She tried to convince herself that what they'd done to her had not been all that bad. That it most certainly could have been far, far worse, considering the kinds of things the likes of Bellatrix and Greyback usually liked to do to their captives and victims. She tried to convince herself that Lucius had really done her a favor. Sort of. She tried to remind herself that physically, she was perfectly okay, excepting that the burns on her arm had been split open again. She tried to convince herself that she would be all right.

But she couldn't see it that way. She felt dirty, violated, evil. She felt defeated and hopeless. She wasn't sure what they meant to do with her next. She had thought, had hoped, for one brief, passing moment that they would let her go now. They had what they wanted, after all. Lucius had his…'hold' on her. But then they'd locked her up here, which clearly meant they weren't finished with her. Ginny suspected this had to do with that 'problem' Bellatrix had mentioned, though she had no idea what that was, what that meant.

What that would entail for her.

She shut her eyes and thought of Will. Maybe he would be safe now, she thought. Maybe Lucius would be able to get him out of here now. On the other hand—on the more likely hand—maybe she'd been an idiot to place any kind of faith in Lucius Malfoy at all.

_Maybe_, she thought with new resolve, _I need to keep trying to find a way to get Will out of here myself._

She felt suddenly annoyed with herself. Yes, of course, she couldn't give up now. Even if Lucius _was_ telling the truth, he himself had not been one hundred percent certain that he would be able to get Will away from the other Death Eaters. And even if he _was_ successful in doing so, he had admitted he had no intention of giving Will back to Draco.

For a brief second, Ginny hesitated on that thought. Was it possible Lucius might be…right? That maybe Will _would_ be safer hidden away somewhere, someplace where no one could ever find him? Really, she thought, who _wouldn't_ be safer, hidden away from this world they now lived in, this world where Harry, their one hope, was gone, this world where Death Eaters ran rampant, gaining control in more and more places…

But then, slowly, Ginny began thinking of the past several months of her life, the past several months she'd spent with Malfoy and Will. Yes, it was a horrible, often hopeless-seeming world they lived in, but she'd found a way to be happy, hadn't she? She'd been happy, and secure, with people she felt safe with. People _she_ wanted to _keep_ safe. And there were risks, of course there were risks, and terrible things happened sometimes, but…how much better would life really be for Will, to grow up hidden away, isolated from any family or friends who loved him? In a place where he would have to be on guard all the time, in a place where his activities would be incredibly restricted, in a place where he likely would have to forgo most of his magical education?

To condemn him to a life like that…wasn't that just giving up? Wasn't that letting the Death Eaters win? Will could be kept safe, he _could_, Ginny was determined on that note. To let him be hidden away, taken away from the people that loved him…that wouldn't do him any good at all. Ginny was resolved on that matter, now.

Which meant she couldn't leave this to Lucius, even on the off-chance that he was trustworthy. She had to get free, and get Will out herself. Because he belonged with his parents. With his family.

She hesitated a second longer, her thoughts touching briefly on Malfoy, but then she fled from those thoughts. She couldn't count on him. He'd claimed that he loved Will, cared about him, but not enough to turn on the Death Eaters. Hadn't he proven that? Hadn't he proven it had been a mistake for her to give Will over to him?

That idea staggered her. As much as Malfoy had hurt _her_, in spite of the secret he'd kept, she couldn't quite make herself belief that Will didn't belong with him. Because she'd _seen_ him and Will together, and in her heart, she knew he was a good father. A good father with a lot of his own daddy issues, a good father with a lot of flaws…but still a good father. And Will belonged with him.

But none of that really mattered right now. All that mattered was that she got Will and herself out of this house, to safety.

She forced herself to her feet and stared down at the attic door in the floorboards with dismay. How to get out? She had no wand. They'd locked the attic door, of course, with a spell, and doubtless there were guards standing in the corridor below, anyway. She could pound and bang on the door all she liked; even if she did manage to break through, they'd only catch her and lock her up somewhere else.

She turned in a slow circle, beginning to feel rather bleak. She eyed every corner and wall of the attic, but there were no windows, no cracks, and even if there were, they were surely protected with enchantments. She was beginning to get rather frustrated when a commotion from down below caught her attention. A sudden shout of alarm sounded out, and Ginny spun around, falling to her knees and pressing her ear against the floorboards to hear what was happening.

"Oy! You're not supposed to be h—"

The shouted words ended abruptly in a pained grunt, and then the sounds of some kind of scuffle reached Ginny's ears. Someone cried out a Stunning Spell, then someone cursed, and another muffled shout sounded out. There was a final _thud_, and then everything went quiet.

Although still desperate to hear what was happening, the sudden silence seemed ominous, and Ginny instinctively lurched back, scrambling to her feet. A second later, this proved to save her, as the locking spell on the attic door came undone with a _click_. As the door began to creak open, Ginny threw herself back, hiding behind a large, dusty trunk in the corner of the attic.

There were footsteps ascending into the attic, but no one spoke. Cautiously, Ginny peeked her head around the trunk to see who had come in. She yanked her head back around a second later, as her eyes had fallen upon a masked Death Eater standing at the entrance, looking around the attic.

Ginny held her breath, trying to remain as still and silent as possible. Still, she could only hide; she had nowhere to go and no wand to fight with. There was another creaking footstep, as the Death Eater presumably began to come forward into the room, but then silence fell again, a rather still, sudden silence. The next thing Ginny heard was another scuffling of footsteps, this time sounding very hurried. And then silence.

Curious, Ginny dared to peek her head around the trunk again, and what she saw surprised her. The masked Death Eater had gone, and he'd left the attic door hanging wide open. A cautious voice in her head warned her that this might be a trap, but what could a trap like this gain the Death Eaters? Why try to lure her out? There was no reason for it. Unless Greyback and his faction wanted to get her alone so they could torture and kill her.

Swallowing against this possibility, Ginny came quietly but quickly to her feet. She padded over to the open door and dared a glance down. She was surprised to see two Death Eaters lying unconscious on the floor in the corridor below her. She recognized both of them; one was Avery, the Death Eater who had been guarding her for Lucius. The other, Ginny was surprised to see, was Miles Bletchley, a Slytherin who had been only a few years ahead of Ginny at Hogwarts.

After daring another glance through the open door, Ginny slowly lowered herself down into the empty (save for the unconscious men) corridor, keeping a wary eye about her. There was no sign of the masked Death Eater who had come into the attic only minutes before. There was no sign of anyone.

Ginny was confused as to what had happened—who that masked Death Eater had been, and how Bletchley and Avery, her guards, had turned up unconscious—but she wasn't going to sit around and figure it out. As far as she was concerned, this was a stroke of luck. So pausing only to take Avery's wand, she began her way down the corridor.

She didn't dare stop moving, but she forced herself to concentrate as she went. Where would Will be? Her first thought was of the study Lucius had kept her in when she first arrived. Obviously, Will wasn't in there, but that room seemed to be a place Lucius considered as his own. And if he'd managed to keep Will in his possession…then he might very well be somewhere near that study.

She knew the study was near the front, north side of the manor, but she wasn't entirely sure where _she_ was, in regards to that room. Surely the attic entrance was sort of…central…to the rest of the house? That was the only thing that made sense, so she took left turns where she could, heading in what she thought was generally the right direction.

She'd only taken two turns when frustrated voices alerted her to a gaggle of Death Eaters just ahead, coming her way. She quickly ducked behind a hall table with a large lamp, pressing herself as close to the wall as she could. Seconds later, four Death Eaters passed her by, and it was only thanks to their rapid pace that they didn't notice Ginny. Although they passed by very quickly, Ginny was able to catch a smattering of their conversation.

"…how he got in. And without any of us knowing!"

"Yeah, well, you've probably got Lucius to thank for that, the stupid…"

"…just make sure the Weasley girl stays put. Or else it won't matter if we catch him or not!"

Ginny frowned, coming to her feet once they were firmly out of sight. Who had they been talking about? It sounded as though someone had gotten into the house, someone the Death Eaters didn't want here…someone they were trying to catch. Ginny shook her head, continuing to move down the corridors. Perhaps whoever it was had come to help her, or Will. Perhaps whoever it was had knocked out the guards on her door.

Well, it didn't really matter. She wasn't counting on anyone else to save her or Will. That, she would do on her own, if she had to. She picked up her pace, more confident now, that she was headed in the right direction. The Riddle House was a large manor, but not nearly as large and confusing as Malfoy Manor. So Ginny had plenty practice finding her way around.

Once she reached the part of the manor she was looking for, she paused, glancing around uncertainly. To get to the study, all she had to do was turn right, then go up a ways. But Will wouldn't be there, she was certain of it. But would he be in the same corridor, just further along? Or would he be _behind_ that corridor, meaning she should turn left? She really didn't have time to puzzle it out, and if she turned right and went past the study, she felt she had a greater chance of being seen, maybe even of running into Lucius. So on that impulse, she turned left, heading back. She hadn't gone five steps, however, when she heard him.

"_Whaaaaaa! Aaaaaaaaa!_"

"Will!" Startled, Ginny skidded to a halt, nearly tripping in her haste to turn around and head back in the opposite direction. She turned a hurried right, down the corridor where the study was, and then—

Ginny came to a sudden halt. A masked Death Eater stood only a few paces from her, facing her. And in his arms was a thrashing Will. The infant's face was contorted, his eyes screwed shut and his little mouth wide open in a silent wail. Judging by the wand in the Death Eater's hand, Ginny guessed he'd put a Silencing Charm on the baby.

Ginny didn't hesitate. She raised the wand she'd taken from Avery, leveling it directly at the masked Death Eater. "Hand him over now," she said sharply, "or I'll hex you within an inch of your life."

Her threat was answered by silence and stillness. The Death Eater said nothing, and he didn't make a move, either to run, to use his own wand, or to hand Will over. He only stared at her, motionless.

Ginny's eyes narrowed. Her mind was ringing in confusion; this was certainly odd behavior for a Death Eater. Unless he didn't want the boy in his arms to be hurt, which seemed incredibly unlikely. But she didn't really care, either. She just wanted Will back, safely in her arms. "Hand over my son _now_," she hissed. "Do it!"

For a moment, the Death Eater still didn't move. Ginny wasn't sure what to do; she was extremely hesitant to try and curse the Death Eater while he still held Will; she didn't want to chance hurting the baby instead. But the Death Eater was just _standing_ there, like a brainless oaf…

And then, before Ginny could make a decision, he moved. He took a very slow, very cautious step towards her. Ginny forced herself not to retreat, to stand firm, but her grip on the wand tightened. The Death Eater inched forward a little more. Ginny tensed with every step he took, wondering what on earth this man was thinking. And then—when he stood less than a pace away from her—he held Will out to her.

Ginny stared, incredulous. Her mind was whirling with questions and suspicions. Was he—this Death Eater was actually handing Will over to her? Just like that? "No tricks," Ginny warned, staring the masked man in the face. He said nothing. And then—very quickly—Ginny lowered her wand enough to snatch Will out of the man's arms.

"_Stupefy!_"

Ginny flinched and leapt back, shielding Will in her arms, but then the masked Death Eater in front of her crumpled to the ground, and she realized the shouted spell had not been for her. Astonished, breathless, she glanced up to see who had cast the spell—and her jaw dropped open.

"_Malfoy?_ What are you _doing_ here?"

"What do you think I'm doing here, you stupid bint?" Malfoy, Draco Malfoy—he was actually here—scowled as hurried towards them, stepping gingerly over the fallen Death Eater he'd just Stunned. He prodded the limp body with his foot. "Who _is_ this nutter? Why did he just hand Will over like that?"

"You saw?" Ginny blinked.

"I was going to curse him, but I didn't want to try anything while he had Will. I couldn't believe it when he just handed him over. Course, he was probably fixing to hex you as soon as he did. Lucky I was here, really." A smug smirk lit his face, but it died when he finally raised his head and met Ginny's eyes.

In spite of the urgency of the situation, Ginny paused to stare at him. A moment of tense silence fell between them, as they both looked at each other for the first time since Ginny had run out of the bedroom that morning. Ginny felt a lump rise in her throat, giving her a sort of choked feeling. Choked, because as much as Malfoy had hurt her, had betrayed her, she so badly wanted to forget it all and throw herself into his arms, and the raw, open guilt in his eyes right now made that only more tempting. He opened his mouth then, and Ginny had the idiocy to think that maybe he was going to apologize.

But he only cleared his throat uneasily and said, "Look, we need to get out of here. I got in mostly undetected, but I won't stay that way for long."

"They know you're here," Ginny said brusquely. "And if they don't already know I'm out, they will soon." Briefly, she explained what she'd heard from the Death Eaters who had passed by her.

Malfoy cursed. "Then let's go," he said shortly. He made a jerky motion, as though to reach out and grab Ginny by the arm, but he seemed to rethink this, and simply turned to lead her down the corridor. "Hurry up, Weasley, before someone—"

A streaming jet of red light shot over Ginny's shoulder and missed Malfoy by inches, cutting his words short. He let out a yelp as he stumbled out of the way, just as Ginny threw a harried glance behind her. Three Death Eaters were just behind them, perhaps only ten paces back. They raised their wands to shoot more curses at them, but Malfoy grabbed Ginny by the arm, thrust her and Will in front of him, and started to run, forcing Ginny to as well.

As they sprinted down the corridor, Malfoy kept tossing curses over his shoulder with his wand; Ginny, unfortunately, with Will in hand, could not really help him. As they approached the end of the corridor, Malfoy hollered between shallow breaths, "Right here, turn right here—"

Ginny followed his directions dubiously; she thought if they'd kept going straight they would reach the staircase, but Malfoy probably knew the place better, having been here before. His direction proved true, as they quickly reached a different stairwell. Although they were still being pursued, Ginny hesitated at the top of the stairs. "Go down here?" she demanded in a breathless whisper.

"Yes, Weasley, what are you waiting f—argh!" Malfoy let out a yell that was cut short as a jet of red light hit him right in the chest. Ginny reached out to him with her free wand arm in horror, but she couldn't reach him, catch him, and he tumbled down the stairs in an unconscious heap.

The Death Eaters behind them rounded the corner and, panicking, Ginny sprinted down the staircase after the fallen Malfoy, hoping to reach him with enough time to wake him before their pursuers caught up with them. A few steps from the bottom of the staircase, however—and from Malfoy—she spotted another Death Eater, waiting just below—Yaxley. She realized, then, that it had been him who had Stunned Draco.

He raised his wand at her and Will as they came running into sight, but Ginny ducked the curse he shot at her and lifted her own wand, while balancing Will in her other arm. "_Petrificus Totalus!_" she shouted, and Yaxley fell over like a stiff board at the foot of the stairs. She leapt over his paralyzed body and pointed her wand at Malfoy hastily, saying, "_Ennervate_."

Malfoy groaned awake, coming around slowly, far too slowly. Another jet of red light came shooting down the stairs towards them, and Ginny barely deflected it with a Shield Charm. She glanced up anxiously and found the three Death Eaters barreling down the stairs towards them. "Malfoy, wake up, move!" Ginny hollered, but there wasn't time; the Death Eaters were too close and Malfoy was still struggling to wake up—

Another jet of spell light shot towards her, far too close to Will, and with a little shriek, Ginny leapt aside, away from Malfoy, instinctively desperate to get Will out of harm's way. Before she could rush forward and shoot her own spell at the Death Eaters, they reached the bottom of the stairwell, and Malfoy—just as he was staggering to his feet. One of the Death Eaters, Travers, grabbed a hold of him, and Malfoy jerked around, punching Travers so hard that the man let go of him and fell back, as though Stunned. But then a second Death Eater was there, Rookwood, and he reached out to grab Malfoy too, while throwing a punch with his other arm. Malfoy ducked just in time and swung out with his own fist, but then the third Death Eater was there—Jugson, Ginny thought—and he held back a pace, keeping enough distance to level his wand at Malfoy.

Ginny raised her own wildly and shot a Stunning Spell at Jugson, but he saw her move and at the same time shouted "_Expelliarmus!_" To Ginny's dismay, his spell reached her first, and Avery's wand went flying out of her hand. This moment's distraction had given Malfoy a chance, however. He slugged Rookwood across the face before reaching around the man to snatch at the wand in Jugson's hand. As they fought for it, Jugson's wand snapped in two. But then Jugson came straight at Malfoy, grabbing a hold of him, and the momentarily fallen Travers sprung up as well, restraining the struggling Malfoy from behind. The two of them, along with Rookwood, were quickly overpowering him.

Ginny looked around desperately for a wand, but Avery's was nowhere in sight and Jugson's was snapped in two. Malfoy, Rookwood, and Travers, though fighting hand-to-hand, were still in possession of theirs. Ginny had no means of fighting, certainly not with Will in her arms; she had no way of helping Malfoy without endangering Will. Panicking, helpless, Ginny cried, "Malfoy!"

Malfoy got another punch in, knocking Travers away again, and in the split second of freedom he managed to turn to face Ginny. But he still couldn't get free, as he struggled against Jugson and Rookwood. "Get—out—of here—Weasley!" he managed to grunt.

Jugson threw her a frustrated glance and Rookwood snarled angrily at Malfoy. Ginny realized that Malfoy was not so much struggling to get free as he was fighting to hold the Death Eaters back, fighting to keep them away from her and Will. Ginny stared at him in consternation. She couldn't just leave him here, leave him to the Death Eaters, she had to stay and help him, she _had_ to—

Malfoy swung his fist around, slamming it into Jugson's face. Jugson fell back, but it was no use; as soon as he was out of the way, Travers was back on his feet, launching himself at Malfoy. "Weasley—_go!_" Malfoy bellowed. "GO!"

Ginny swallowed and shook her head, though she took an involuntary step back and clutched Will even more tightly to her. She _couldn't_ just leave him—she couldn't—

But then Will squirmed in her arms, and she glanced down, noting that in spite of the Silencing Charm cast over him, he was still bawling and screaming, no doubt terrified by all the shouting and spell work and fighting going on. She had to protect him—she had to get him to safety. Torn, Ginny glanced up. But _Malfoy_—

She thought, then, of how she'd questioned her decision to give Will over to Malfoy. And she knew now, that it had been the right decision, because Malfoy had turned right around and given Will back to her, insisting she flee the Ministry with his son, leaving Malfoy himself in danger. Just as he wanted her to do now.

And she remembered, then, the time that Malfoy had been the most angry with her, when she'd found two Death Eaters cornering him at home, and had stayed to defend him, rather than leave to protect Will. He had been furious, having no care about his own life—because he'd wanted only for her to take Will to safety. Just as he wanted her to do now.

Filled with an overwhelming sense of helplessness, helplessness that made Ginny hate herself, she realized what she had to do. What Malfoy wanted her to do, what she needed to do. What was the _right_ thing to do. Because it wasn't noble actions or stubborn pride that mattered here—it was family. _Her_ family.

And though it caused her immense guilt and anguish, Ginny turned and ran.

Holding Will tightly in her arms, shielding him from both potential attacks and the onslaught of her speed, she sprinted down the corridor, towards the front of the house. They'd come down a staircase somewhere in the middle of the manor, but still in the main corridor, and if she just ran straight ahead, she would reach the front door, reach freedom, reach safety for Will—

And then she saw the door, not ten paces away. Nine paces, eight paces—seven—six—

Then a hand shot out of the darkness and gripped her by her hair, wheeling her around. Ginny choked on her scream of shock and pain, desperately holding onto Will as she struggled to regain her balance, and to wrench away from—of course. Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Going somewhere, pretty?" Bellatrix hissed, her grip vice-like on Ginny's hair. With a wicked snarl, she lifted her other arm, fixing to point her wand at Ginny and Will—

Ginny didn't let her get that far. Without any other defense, she grabbed a hold of Bellatrix with her free arm, to anchor herself, and then shoved her knee into the woman's gut, _hard_. With a strangled scream, Bellatrix released Ginny and stumbled back, doubling over in pain.

Ginny knew she had only seconds. She lunged forward the last few steps, threw the front door open, and darted out onto the porch. She'd taken only about five steps across the front lawn when a jet of red light shot forward, filling her vision. Ginny didn't actually feel the spell hit, but the next thing she knew, everything had gone black. The last thing she thought, as she went down, was that she must not drop Will.

She woke to bright, glaring lights, having no idea how much time had passed. The first thing that registered was that she ached all over, though nothing hurt so fiercely to make her think she'd been severely injured. Her back ached the most, and also her arm, though that pain was a bit different, a burning, fiery pain.

Then she opened her eyes, and found she was in hospital.

With a gasping breath, Ginny instantly tried to sit upright. Someone reached out and took her by the shoulder, gently but firmly forcing her to lie back against the bed. "Careful, now." The warning came from a boy-faced Trainee Healer. "Not so fast, or you'll hurt yourself."

Although the grogginess was wearing off slowly, Ginny had no trouble remembering what had happened. "Will," she mumbled. "Where's…Will?"

"He's just fine, Ginny." Ginny blinked, taking in more of the hospital room, and saw her mother coming forward to stand at her bedside. "He's completely unharmed. You got him out safely. Diana's got him now."

Ginny blinked again, still struggling to come fully awake. She stared at her mother in confusion for a moment, piecing together her words, but then the Trainee Healer reached for her bandaged arm and she yanked it away from him, flinching violently. "What are you _doing?_" she demanded of him.

"Examining you." The Trainee spoke calmly, but he looked a little exasperated around the eyes. "You were half-conscious when they brought you in, mumbling that your arm hurt—"

"It's fine," Ginny insisted, pulling away from him when he reached for her again.

"But, you said—"

"It's _fine_." Ginny tossed the white hospital sheets off of her and swung her legs over the side of the bed. "I'm fine. Of course my arm hurts; it was injured yesterday, Stinging Hex. But there's nothing else wrong with me."

"Ginny." Her mother looked worried as Ginny rose from the bed, her legs a little shaky. Still, she did not try to restrain her. "Ginny, I think you should let the Healers look you over; you were unconscious for quite a while—"

"I'm fine, Mum," Ginny repeated. She paused long enough to look her mother full in the face, and she struggled to summon a reassuring smile. "Really, I feel fine. But I need to get out of here, I need to see Will—"

"Will is all right, Ginny, I promise you," her mother assured her. She shot the disgruntled Trainee an apologetic look, but went right along with Ginny when she headed out of the hospital room. "Diana just left with him, actually, she was going to take him to their flat. Several Aurors went with them," she added, when Ginny opened her mouth to protest.

"Oh," Ginny muttered. "Good, that's good." She rubbed her eye with a weary fist, struggling to think and regain her bearings. "But, Mum, what happened? How did I get here, with Will? I think I was Stunned—"

"Yes, you were, but just as you got out of that wretched house." Her mother shuddered. "Where all the Death Eaters were. There were Aurors waiting, so they got to you and Will right away, and brought you both here."

"But then—Malfoy!" Suddenly recalling how she'd been forced to leave him, Ginny whirled around to look at her mother desperately. "Where is he, is he okay? Was he hurt at all? He must be, if Diana took Will home with her—"

"Ginny—" her mother said uneasily.

"Where is he, Mum? I need to see him."

"Ginny." Her mother placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, though her grip was firm, as though she feared Ginny would need the stability. "Ginny, Draco has not—he's not out, yet. So far as we know, he's still in that house. The…Riddle House."

Ginny stared at her mum, confusion warring with dismay. "But—what do you—I thought the Death Eaters must have been rounded up, you said the Aurors—"

"The Aurors haven't been able to penetrate the Death Eaters' defenses around the house, Ginny," her mother said gently. She gave her shoulder a tight squeeze. "They've got all their specialists on dark magic, of course, but they haven't managed to—"

"But I got out!" Without meaning to, Ginny wrenched out of her mother's grip and stepped back. She could feel horror registering on her face. Malfoy was still _inside?_ She had left him there, abandoned him, and he was still trapped with the Death Eaters? "How could I have gotten out, if their protections are so strong?"

Molly Weasley shrugged helplessly. "Ginny, dear, I don't know. Perhaps it's because you ran out—perhaps people can leave, but no one can get in—Ginny!"

Ginny didn't wait to hear the rest of this theory; without quite knowing what she was doing, barely aware that she was moving, she turned away from her mother, heading for the Floo out past the reception area. Her mother hurried after her, calling her name, but before she could stop her, Ginny had grabbed a handful of Floo powder, tossed it into the flames, and transported herself to the Ministry.

She reached Auror Headquarters in no time at all; at least, it seemed that way to Ginny. She was in a sort of daze, but an oddly focused, determined daze. Focused on one thing.

The Auror offices were packed, but, with some relief, she spotted a shock of purple hair straightaway, further in the back of the main corridor. She hurried past people, ignoring the few stares she received, until she reached Tonks. Tonks turned and spotted her just as Ginny reached her, and she looked rather surprised to see Ginny there.

"Ginny, what are you doing here?" Tonks demanded. "Are you okay? The Aurors who brought you in said you were pretty out of it—"

"Just Stunned," Ginny said impatiently. "Otherwise, I'm fine. Look, my mum said you lot haven't been able to get by the Death Eaters' enchantments at the Riddle House yet. She said—" Ginny paused to take a breath. "She said Malfoy's still in there."

Tonks nodded grimly. "Well, she's right, about all of that. I don't suppose you know how you got out?"

Ginny shrugged helplessly. "Tonks, honestly, I just—ran out the front door. That's all. I don't know, my mum said—I mean, maybe they didn't concern themselves with trying to keep anyone in. Maybe they're only trying to keep you lot out."

"Well, there's got to be a way in somehow." Tonks looked frustrated. She absently accepted a report from a passing Auror, barely giving it a glance. "I mean, the Death Eaters have obviously got a way of getting in and out, past their own enchantments, and of course, past the barriers _we_ put up. And yet—" She glanced at Ginny, lifting an eyebrow. "They _let_ you in."

Ginny coughed. "Well, I, er, was sort of counting on that."

Tonks rolled her eyes. "You and Draco," she sighed, "are too alike."

An uneasy flinch ran through Ginny at the mention of Malfoy, and the guilt she'd been trying to suppress rose in her chest. "Apparently," she said hoarsely, trying to make her voice sound flippant. "And now—well, now he's stuck in there. Tonks, we _have_ to get him out. Most of those Death Eaters want him dead, you know."

Tonks gave her a knowing look, as though she saw right through Ginny's bid to be casual. "Don't count him out yet, Gin. He's resourceful. He knows how to stay alive."

"How did you lot even know we were there, anyway?" Ginny asked, the thought suddenly occurring to her.

"Well," Tonks said dryly, "once we'd confirmed you were missing, and once that idiot Carmichael told me what you'd told him, it wasn't too hard to figure out. But actually, before we could think about going in, Pansy Parkinson called in and said she'd caught a Death Eater."

"Excuse me?" Ginny spluttered. "Pansy? She…_caught_ a Death Eater?"

"Knocked him out with a soup pot, as I understand it." Tonks looked oddly appreciative, but she sobered immediately. "Ginny, it was…Theodore Nott. The man that found you last night? Turns out he's a Death Eater, and—"

"I know," Ginny interrupted. Already, a glimmer of an idea was forming in her mind, with this new information. "Lucius Malfoy told me. Nott's the one who pushed me down the stairs, and the one who beat me up. That's how he 'found' me." She grimaced.

Tonks looked astonished. "I—Ginny—how do you know? I mean, just because Lucius Malfoy said—"

"He was telling the truth," Ginny said abruptly. "Listen, Tonks, are you saying you're holding Nott here?" At Tonks' crisp nod, she asked, "Well, surely he can tell you how to get past the Death Eaters' defenses?" She was already expecting the answer Tonks gave her then, and indeed, Tonks was already shaking her head.

"He won't talk, Ginny. He refuses to tell us anything."

"Let me talk to him," Ginny said fiercely. "He'll talk to _me_."

Tonks sent her an appraising glance. "Ginny, you know I can't do that. You're not an Auror, not anymore. I can't authorize you to, er…_question_ him." By her tone of voice, she clearly didn't expect that Ginny planned to 'question' him at all.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Look, I don't have a wand, I lost it in the Riddle House. So I'm not going to hex him, all right? And even though he deserves a good beating after what he did to me—" Ginny scowled "—I won't lay a hand on him either, all right?"

"Sure you won't." Tonks looked skeptical.

"Will you _please_ just let me talk to him? Tonks, I'm not going to hurt him, but I _can_ talk to him in, er—ways that you lot can't. You're right, I'm not an Auror anymore, and that means I don't have to play by any pesky rules."

Tonks looked reluctant, but Ginny knew it was because she was worried about Ginny herself, and not about her own reputation, and definitely not because she was worried about what Ginny might to do to Nott. Tonks sighed, cast a surreptitious glance around the office, and then slipped Ginny her ID pass. She said tersely, "He's in Room 2. You've got five minutes."

"That's all right," Ginny muttered, more to herself as she hurried away from Tonks, "I think I'll only need three."

She flipped the ID pass at the two Aurors guarding Room 2, thankful that she did not recognize either of them, and then slipped inside before they could object to her going in. Theodore Nott sat at the small table in the room, utterly alone. He was bound quite thoroughly to his chair, both by plain rope and magical constraints. He smiled whimsically when he saw Ginny. "Why, Miss Weasley," he said, his voice deceptively pleasant. "I see you're looking much improved from the, ah…condition I found you in last night."

"You mean the condition you _left_ me in last night," Ginny said darkly. Nott opened his mouth to respond, no doubt to deny this accusation, but she held up a hand to forestall him. "I'm not interested in your excuses right now. All I want from you is information on how to get past the Death Eaters' defenses at the Riddle House."

Nott spared her a derisive look. "Even if I knew, why would I tell you?"

Ginny took a deep breath, hoping her guess was right—because that's all it really was. An intuitive guess. "Malfoy told me once," she said slowly, "that you were never keen on joining the Death Eaters. The way he was, the way Crabbe and Goyle were."

"Well, a bloke can change his mind, can't he?"

"Blaise was never very keen on them, either," Ginny said suddenly, and she was surprised to find that uttering Blaise's name didn't cause her as much pain as she thought it would. "But mostly just because he didn't like to commit any loyalty either way."

Nott smirked suddenly. "Yes," he murmured, "he's always been like that."

Ginny barely registered this comment, as focused as she was on her own agenda. "I kind of got the impression, though," she went on, "that your aversion to joining the Death Eaters wasn't like that. It wasn't about trying to be neutral. It was because…you detest them."

The smirk vanished from Nott's face, and his expression grew dark, almost frighteningly so. "Obviously, I don't," he snarled.

"Yes," Ginny insisted calmly, "you do."

"You don't know anything about me, Weasley!"

"No. But Malfoy does."

Nott's jaw tightened, as though he were biting back an angry retort. He eyed Ginny for several moments before he demanded, "What's he told you? Draco?"

Ginny didn't answer. She merely gazed at Nott coolly. Truthfully, Malfoy had told her nothing else about Nott and his feelings towards the Death Eaters, but Nott didn't have to know that. She could pull off a bluff.

When she didn't answer, Nott scowled. "Look, they can help me, all right? They can get me what I want."

"And yet, they haven't yet, obviously," Ginny cut in, going along with what he was saying. "And you've been a Death Eater, for, what? A couple years maybe?"

"Longer than that," Nott snapped.

"And they _still_ haven't given you what you want? Do you really think they're going to, at this point?"

Nott's scowl deepened, but when she spoke, it was in a dark mutter. He almost sounded as though he were speaking to himself, and it was then that Ginny was sure the man was a little insane. "She said to just wait, wait until I knew more, 'til I could really _hurt_ him, wait until I could do it myself—"

"But you're going to prison for a very long time now," Ginny reminded him, continuing to play along when she had no idea what he was talking about. "So you won't be able to do anything yourself, will you? You've lost your chance."

"What do you know about it, Weasley?" Nott nearly shouted at her.

"_I_ could get it done for you," she said calmly, "if you tell us how to get past the defenses at the Riddle House."

Nott's anger seemed to deflate out of him in a second. He stared at Ginny in flat disbelief. "You—_you?_ You could—" He broke off and laughed. "Little Ginny Weasley, doing—no. You wouldn't do it."

"I would and I could," Ginny repeated. "I'm not an Auror anymore, so I can promise you things they can't. And you're not in any position to be making deals with Death Eaters anymore. So I'm the only chance you've got."

"You won't do it," Nott insisted.

"I said I would, didn't I?"

A perceptive gleam came into Nott's eyes. "You don't what it is, do you?" he said suddenly. "Draco hasn't told you anything. You don't know what I want."

"I will if you tell me."

She was surprised when he told her then, point-blank, exactly what it was that he wanted. Ginny forced herself not to recoil in surprise or disgust, because she knew that was the reaction Nott was looking for. She understood, now, why he thought she wouldn't do it, although, she reflected wryly, he could have asked for much worse. _And just because I said I'd get it done_, she thought, _doesn't mean I have to actually do it myself._

"Done," she said, striving to keep her expression and voice impassive.

Nott stared at her incredulously. "You're actually going to do it?"

"I swear I will."

"Swear, then!" That feverish, crazed look entered his eyes again, and with a shudder, Ginny was reminded of Bellatrix Lestrange. "Swear you'll do it!"

Although her instinct was to flinch away, Ginny forced herself to lean forward, so that she was looking Nott right in the eye. With as cool and calm a composure as she could muster, she said, "I swear I'll see it done—_if_ you tell us how to get past the Death Eater's defenses at the Riddle House."

Ten seconds later, she emerged from the room and found Tonks waiting for her. "Well?"

"He'll talk," Ginny said shortly. "He'll tell you everything he knows."

***

Draco shot Jugson an angry glare when the man shoved him roughly into his father's study. Lucius raised an eyebrow at Jugson, who was sporting a brilliant black eye. "Careful, now," he drawled. "He's still my son, after all."

"Oh, really?" Draco muttered, his words tinged with sarcasm. He rubbed his bruising arm with a wince. "I'd forgotten."

"No need to tell me that," Lucius said evenly.

Draco flinched at his father's tone, but he deflected by throwing the exiting Jugson a smirk. "Don't mind Jugson. He's just sore I got a few good punches in."

Jugson threw him a sour glance before he left the room, shutting the door behind him.

With nowhere else to look, Draco reluctantly turned to face his father. After the two of them stared silently at each other for a moment, Draco sullenly slumped into the chair across from the desk. "Why aren't you busy trying to escape with all the others?" he demanded. "I heard talk about Aurors surrounding the place, when they brought me up here."

"Yes, Aurors have surrounded us," Lucius said, his voice like ice. "Which wouldn't be a problem if someone hadn't given away our location."

"Well, it wasn't me!" Draco protested. Which, he realized, was not entirely true.

"Oh, really?"

"I never told the Aurors anything," he insisted. _That_ was true. "Maybe you've got a leak somewhere else. Like Theo, for instance," he said, suddenly seizing on that thought. "Why'd anyone ever let _him_ into the fold, anyway? You know he hates you lot. He only wants his father dead, that's all."

"I'm aware of that," Lucius said dryly. "Allowing Nott to become a Death Eater was certainly never my idea. You have your aunt to thank for that."

"Yeah, he said as much," Draco muttered.

Silence fell again. Draco, who'd been studiously staring at his hands, dared a glance up. His father was still eyeing him, his gaze unwavering, his expression impassive. Draco couldn't tell at all what he was thinking, and he suddenly realized why Ginny found it so infuriating when he did that.

"Theo told me, that, er—" Draco hesitated. "That he was the one who pushed Gin—Weasley down the stairs. And that he was the one who beat her up."

Another moment of silence, and then his father said, his voice very quiet, "Did you really think that I had done it?"

"No! Well—" Draco swallowed. He _had_ thought his father had done it, he had been convinced. And he had hated him for it. "It's just…I mean, I didn't think anyone else could get into the manor! You must have told him how to get in," Draco said, his words taking on a slightly accusatory tone. "I mean—he never would've gotten so far if you hadn't."

"I did." Lucius nodded, and if felt at all ashamed about that, it didn't show. "I hardly had any other choice. I didn't realize he and Bellatrix were planning to move so soon, however. When he asked me for information, I knew he would try to get in, likely to take your son. I thought I had time to get in there first."

"Right." Draco couldn't help it now; he was growing angry. "So _you_ could take him instead. Just like you _did_ take him—"

"I wanted to take him so he could be sent somewhere safe!" Cold fury rose in his father's eyes. "I knew it was only a matter of time before Bellatrix and the others got to him, so they could use him against you. And Greyback? What do you think _he_ wanted to do with the boy?"

Draco was unable to repress a shudder. He knew what Greyback would've liked to do to his son. "Someone should just kill that monster already," he grumbled.

"Are you volunteering?" Lucius drawled.

Draco scowled. "No." Frustration mounted within him; his desire to believe in his father warring with his mistrust for him. "But—look, Ginny told me how you tried to take him, when he'd just been born, at the Ministry last year. She said you wanted to use him against me, she said you tried to convince her that I wouldn't be a good dad and that my priorities were mixed up, or some nonsense like that—"

"Draco." Lucius looked as though he were trying very hard to refrain from rolling his eyes. "I was speaking to a _Weasley_, and a member of their bloody Order, for that matter. I would've said anything to convince her to give the child to me, _including_ saying you were a bad father. And I never said anything about wanting to use him against you—" And his eyes glittered dangerously "—though that's certainly what I expected her to do with the boy."

"What?" Draco stared. "_Ginny?_ She would never—"

"That's what the Order did, didn't they?" Lucius looked at him coolly, his eyes boring into Draco as though he could see right through him. "I suppose they promised protection, in exchange for you doing them a few…favors?"

Draco swallowed. His father had surely heard about what happened in France; did he suspect, as Nott did, that it had all been a ruse? Even if he didn't, it was true. Ginny _had_ threatened to withhold protection for Will if he didn't help them. But that was different; that was the Order, not her, she'd proved as much in this past year…

"Look, anything I've done, I've done to…survive, all right?" Draco evaded his father's gaze; he couldn't look him in the eye. "And to keep my family safe. Isn't that what you do? Isn't that what's important?"

For a moment, Lucius didn't say anything. Draco dared a glance up at him, and found his father watching him through narrowed eyes. "Your family," Lucius said softly. "And am I to understand that this includes Ginny Weasley now?"

Draco flinched. "No," he lied.

Lucius raised an eyebrow.

Draco sighed. "Look, she's practically raised Will since he was born, all right? She saved him at the Ministry, she protected him in Paris, she looked after him when I couldn't. I didn't have anyone else, Dad." His voice dropped, so low that he was almost whispering. "I didn't have you. Or Mum."

"You _trust_ her," Lucius said, his tone disbelieving.

"I don't have anyone else to trust!" Draco burst out.

"You care about her." Lucius phrased this as a statement, but there was a question in it. A question Draco answered by remaining silent. "You _care_ about her?" Lucius repeated, incredulous disgust in his voice. "You care about a filthy blood traitor—"

Draco heaved an exasperated sigh. "Does it really matter that she's a blood traitor?"

A shocked silence followed this outburst, and the shock was from Draco as much as from his father, shocked that he had just uttered those words. Shocked to realize that he actually meant that. Believed that. But now that he'd started, Draco found that he couldn't stop. He recovered from this shock before his father did, and he went on, "I mean, all that aside, she's—she's a strong person, and she doesn't give up, and she's resilient and resourceful, and family's just as important to her as it is to us, I mean, she—she's like Mum."

As soon as he blurted this out, he wished he could take it back. Lucius looked at him coldly, and Draco actually felt a little abashed.

"Don't you dare compare a Weasley to your mother," Lucius said evenly. "Ever."

Draco said nothing. He still stood behind what he said, but he knew he shouldn't have said it. Not to his father.

"I'm disappointed in you, Draco," Lucius said coldly.

It was these words—so stark, so simple—that sparked Draco's ire. "Look, you don't know what it was like!" he said angrily. "You were gone, and then Mum—then Mum—" He broke off before his voice could start wavering. "Then Mum was gone, too, and it was just me! Just me in that huge, empty house, and I didn't—" He broke off again, taking a deep breath; Trying to compose himself. "You don't know what it was like."

"Maybe not," Lucius said, his tone deceptively mild, "but losing your mother, Draco—yes, I know what that was like. More than you do."

Draco shot him a suspicious look, but in spite of the utter lack of expression on his father's face, he knew, then, that losing his mother had caused Lucius just as much pain, if not more, than it had Draco. Because he knew what that looked like, even when there was nothing visible to see, in his eyes, on his face. Yes, he knew.

"You are constantly whining about how unfair and awful your life has been, Draco," Lucius went on calmly, and now there was something in his eyes—an expression torn between amusement and regret. "Because you were forced to do the Dark Lord's bidding, because Severus kept you in hiding, because you had to go to prison and stay there, until you served all your time. Did it ever occur to you that being kept hidden—and yes, even being forced to remain in prison—was a blessing?"

Draco stared, taken aback. "I—what? You must be joking."

"I assure you, I am not."

"Being in hiding may have been Snape's idea of a favor, but I wouldn't agree," Draco growled. "It was ten months of hell, and in the end, it did no good because they found me and sent me to prison anyway, which was _three more years_ of hell—"

"First of all," Lucius interrupted, "the prison you knew was nowhere close to hell. By the time you were imprisoned, the Dementors were gone. _That_ is a hell you should surely be grateful you've never known, Draco."

Draco remained sullenly silent; he couldn't really argue with that.

"Secondly," Lucius went on, "whether the Aurors caught you or not is irrelevant. Severus's intention was not only to keep you hidden from them but, more importantly, from the Dark Lord, from many of the Death Eaters. And in that, he was successful—"

"Look, so the Dark Lord was mad I didn't kill Dumbledore, so what?" Draco cut in. "Dumbledore died anyway, and that's all he _really_ cared about. If I'd gone to him in the first place, he might've forgiven me, it probably wouldn't have been so bad—"

"You would have remained a Death Eater," Lucius said, and this so shocked Draco—hearing his father make the very point that Ginny herself had made to him—that he fell silent. "You would have continued to do his work. Instead, you were kept hidden, and when you were sent to prison, you were further spared that fate. Prison protected you, Draco. Did that not ever occur to you?"

Draco was stunned. He couldn't understand what his father was saying, or rather, _why_ he was saying it. Lucius was a Death Eater, and while he hadn't exactly advocated Draco in becoming one as well, he had expressed, in the past, a wish for him to continue to serve the Dark Lord. And now— "I don't understand." Draco shook his head. "I thought you _wanted_ me to keep being a Death Eater. You used to say—"

"Serving the Dark Lord used to bring us power," Lucius said quietly. "Now that he's gone, there is none of that here anymore. The Death Eaters alone can do nothing, even if some of them—" His eyes darkened "—think otherwise. There is nothing to gain by it anymore."

"Then why don't you give up it?" Draco demanded.

"Don't you understand what I've been saying, Draco?" His father fixed him with a very direct gaze. "I don't have that choice. You, thankfully, did."

Draco was speechless. He was bowled over by this admission from his father; he didn't know what to say, what he _could_ say.

"Of course," Lucius went on smoothly, "I'm not so sure that I'm very pleased with what you've done with that choice—playing spy for the Order, inviting a blood traitor into this family—"

Draco rolled his eyes.

"—and I still believe, no matter what you might think, that your son—that _William_—" He scowled over the name choice "—would be far better off away from you. Hidden away safely somewhere, where no one can find him."

"Well, I don't agree," Draco said flatly. "Anyhow, it hardly matters anymore, does it? He's with Ginny now, they got away, didn't they?"

Lucius narrowed his eyes. "Yes. I don't suppose you'd care to explain _how_, exactly, the Weasley girl was able to get past our enchantments?"

Draco was confused. "You mean—when she got in here? I thought you lot let her get in—"

"We did. I was talking about her escape." If possible, Lucius' eyes went even narrower. "The fact that she was able to run right out of here. _Some_one lowered the defenses for her."

"Well, it wasn't me," Draco spluttered. His father snorted incredulously. "Dad, I mean it, it wasn't me! How could I have done? I was a little busy being beaten to a bloody pulp at the time, if you remember." He scowled.

"Hmm." Surprisingly, Lucius seemed to accept this, and now he looked thoughtful. "Yes, well. I suppose it could have been someone else."

"Someone else in here?" Draco shook his head. "Who? Who in here would've wanted to help Ginny escape?"

Lucius looked at his son pensively, an appraising gleam in his eye. Draco was not entirely sure that he liked the way his father was looking at him. It was a little…unsettling. "Who indeed," he murmured. Then he got to his feet suddenly. "Draco, I want to show you something. Or rather—" He chucked mirthlessly "—some_one_."

"What?" Draco stumbled to his feet, bewildered. "Who? Why?"

"Who," his father echoed. "Well, I don't want to spoil the surprise. Let's just say…an old friend. And the only reason I was interested in keeping Ginny Weasley alive."

Draco threw his father a sharp glance. "What are you talking about?"

His father didn't answer. All he said was, "Come, Draco. We don't have much time before the Aurors get in here." And then he strode out of the study, gesturing impatiently for Draco to follow him.

***

"Ginny? Hey, Gin. Wake up."

Ginny rolled over lazily; she had not really been asleep to begin with. Still, she found herself blinking rather blearily at her brother. "What are you doing here?" she asked, her mind still clouded with grogginess.

Fred quirked a smile. "I live here."

"Oh." Ginny sat up, her senses coming back to her. "Right." She remembered where she was now: in George and Diana's flat, or rather, Fred, George, and Diana's flat. Ginny had fallen asleep on Fred's bed, or at least, she'd tried to. With her thoughts preoccupied over Malfoy, sleep was rather difficult to come by.

Fred's smile widened. "You, on the other hand…"

"Okay, okay," Ginny grumbled, suppressing a yawn. "Diana took Will home from the hospital, while I was talking to the Aurors, you know. And she said I could come stay here too, and it just seemed easier since Will was already here—"

"Uh-huh." Fred looked skeptically amused. "_And_ you didn't want to put up with Mum fussing over you."

"Maybe," Ginny admitted.

"Still, you could've—" Fred hesitated. "Well, I mean, you could've just gone home to wait."

Ginny threw Fred a sharp look. "You mean…to the manor?"

Fred nodded cautiously, as though gauging Ginny's reaction to this. Ridiculously, Ginny felt herself doing the same. Then again, maybe it wasn't so ridiculous. After all, the last time Fred had broached the subject of her living at Malfoy Manor, he hadn't been especially happy about it. So, Ginny reflected, it was only natural for her to wait for the explosion. Still, Fred merely looked curious.

"I didn't…" Ginny sighed. "Well, it _was_ just easier to come here. And your place is closer to the Ministry, after all. And—" She bit her lip. "I just didn't want to go back there by myself. It would've been too…big and empty."

Fred raised an eyebrow, but he merely nodded without saying a word. Still, Ginny sensed he was holding back a smart-aleck retort. With another sigh, Ginny got to her feet, running her hands through her hair to smooth it out. "Anyway, what time is it?"

"Past seven," Fred said. "And I didn't just come to wake you up because I wanted my bed back. There's been some news, from the Ministry. From the Aurors, I mean."

"About Malfoy?" Ginny asked sharply.

Fred nodded. "The Aurors finally got into the Riddle House, with that Nott bloke's information. They're bringing some people in to Auror Headquarters—that's probably where they'll bring Malfoy, if they get to him."

"_When_ they get to him," Ginny muttered darkly, stalking out of the room. Fred followed in mild silence.

Out in the living room of the flat, Will sat on the floor with Ginny's nephew, James, who was now a sturdy little boy at nearly two years old, with a head of dark red hair and the beginnings of a smattering of freckles on his arms and face. And sitting on the sofa beside them, to Ginny's surprise, was George himself. He was watching the two little boys play with a flat expression on his face, as if he didn't quite like what he was seeing.

"George!" Pausing only to lift Will into her arms and give him a kiss on the cheek, Ginny looked over at her brother, her surprise evident. "When did you get home?"

"About half an hour ago." A flicker of disapproval crossed his eyes when Ginny picked up Will, but it was gone a second later, and then he only looked a bit wistful—maybe even apologetic—as he looked at his sister. "How have you been, Gin? Well—besides the obvious, I mean."

"Fine." Ginny bent down to put Will back on the floor with James. "Just fine."

George nodded. There was a moment's silence, and then Diana, who was in the kitchen, called out, "Oh, for goodness' sake, you two! George, get off the couch and give your sister a hug already!"

Ginny couldn't help it; she had to stifle a giggle at the abashed expression on George's face when his wife scolded him. Nevertheless, he grinned ruefully and got to his feet. "Well, can't ignore the wife," he said, and then he folded Ginny in a big, tight hug.

"No, you cannot." Ginny did giggle now, before stepping back from her brother. Then she grew serious. "Look, George, I'm—sorry, about what happened. About everything that's happened, I mean, I should—"

"I'm sorry, too, Gin," George interrupted her. "Look, to be honest…I stand by what I said. I mean—" He flung up a hand, no doubt in response to Ginny's dark expression. "I just mean, I had…concerns about you living with Malfoy. And I still do, and I won't apologize for that. As far as I'm concerned, he's an evil git."

"Agreed," Fred echoed.

Ginny sighed. "Well, I suppose it was too much to hope that you'd change your minds about that."

"But," George went on, "Ginny, I never wanted that to come between us, as a family. I mean…well, Bill didn't agree with your decision either, but apparently he kept in touch with you. And…we didn't."

"Well—" Now Ginny felt abashed. "That was my fault, too."

Fred shrugged. "We were all angry. But we never meant for you to run out on us, Ginny, or feel like…like you couldn't come back. Like you weren't welcome. Because of course that's not true."

"You're our sister," George said firmly, "and the only one we've got, and we want you around."

"Well, good," Ginny said fiercely, and her tone of voice was more to keep from crying than anything else, "because I'm not going to let you two get away from me again." She grinned suddenly, reaching down to lift James into the air, and the little boy laughed happily. "_Or_ this one."

Will gurgled in quizzical jealousy, and Ginny laughed at him, putting James back down. George, however, tossed Will another look of disapproval. "Yes, well, just, you know. We like seeing _you_. That doesn't mean—"

"—that we want Malfoy coming around for family dinners," Fred finished.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "As if, you two." The mention of Malfoy, however, pricked her apprehensions again. "Speaking of, I need to get going. Can I leave Will here while I'm at Auror Headquarters?"

"So long as Diana doesn't mind looking out for two little boys," George said. "We're coming with you."

Ginny blinked. "The both of you?" She looked between Fred and George.

"Course," Fred said lightly. "Now are you going to stand there looking like a dumb troll all day, or are we going?"

Auror Headquarters was already bursting with activity when they arrived, as some of the Death Eaters who'd been caught at the Riddle House were being brought in for questioning and temporary containment. Tonks was nowhere to be found, and they were informed—by that stupid git Carmichael, Ginny noted—that Tonks had gone to the house, once the defenses had been broken down. So Ginny, George, and Fred sat to wait in a small reception area at the front of the offices, though the twins graciously got up to check on progress periodically.

"Any news yet?" Ginny demanded, when Fred first checked fifteen minutes later.

Fred shook his head. "Just Death Eaters, so far. Well—" He caught Ginny's eye.

"Don't say it," she warned him.

Fred looked at her innocently. "I was just going to say, they think there might be other captives—people being kept by the Death Eaters, you know—besides Malfoy. So it might be a while; they'll want to take stock of them, before heading back here."

"You two really don't have to wait here with me," Ginny said, casting another anxious glance down the corridor. "I know you both hate Malfoy."

"But we don't hate you," Fred said brightly.

"Yeah," George confirmed. "You're our sister. And we love you, even when you're being stupid."

Ginny scowled, though she was silently grateful for the twins' banter, which kept her mildly distracted. But only mildly. Ten minutes later, Ginny came abruptly to her feet, paced a little, cast another glance down the corridor, before falling back into her seat and dropping her forehead in her hand. "What's taking so long?" she mumbled.

"We've only been here about half an hour, Gin," Fred pointed out.

"Yeah, but still." Ginny didn't think she could take this waiting much longer, and the guilt that came with it. That was why she'd felt responsible for getting Malfoy out, that was why she'd tried to sleep at the twins' flat, even though she hadn't been very tired. Because when she sat still long enough, the decision she'd made, back at the Riddle House, came up to haunt her. She kept replaying the scene over and over in her head, and even though she could see no other way, she was _sure_ she could've done something different—done something to get Will _and_ Malfoy out. A part of her knew she'd made the right decision, getting Will to safety, but if only she could've gone straight back in—if only she could've made sure Malfoy got safely out too—

"Why do you care so much, Ginny?" It was George who posed the question, and Ginny would have snapped at him about it, had it not been for the fact that she was worried, and for the fact that George sounded warily curious, rather than openly hostile.

"Well—" Ginny's voice came out hoarsely. She cleared her throat and said, "It's just—I had to leave him. There was a moment…in the Riddle House…I could've stayed too, I could've helped him fight, but…I had to get Will out of there and—"

"Then you did the right thing, Gin." This, too, surprisingly came from George. When Ginny blinked at him in astonishment, he shrugged and said, "Look, I'm sure even Malfoy isn't such a big git that he doesn't care about his kid. And if it were me, I just would've wanted James out of there. So he can't fault you for doing that."

Ginny nodded, wishing she could be so sure. It was funny. This morning, she had wanted nothing more than to get away from Malfoy; she's been so hurt and angry that she'd never wanted to see him again. And she'd been sure that he wasn't at all deserving of the…of the _goodness_ she thought she'd come to see in him, over the past year.

But now…he'd come for her and Will, hadn't he? He'd sacrificed his own freedom so they could get out…so now…well, now, she wasn't quite sure how she ever could have doubted him. More than that, she really didn't care. She just wanted to see him again, to see him alive and well. The rest didn't matter, at least, not right now.

Ginny shook her head. "It's been a crazy day."

"You can say that again," George agreed.

"Ginny." Fred suddenly looked over Ginny's shoulder, down the corridor in Auror Headquarters. Ginny met his eyes, and he nodded, indicating some point behind her.

Ginny got to her feet and whirled around at the same time. For a moment, she didn't see anything except a jumble of people, bustling around the offices. Then someone stepped aside, and the crowd seemed to part, leaving an open space down the corridor—and she saw him. Malfoy, coming in from the Apparition point beyond the offices, with Tonks at his side. His shoulders were slumped a little, and he walked sort of slowly, as though he were very tired, but otherwise, he seemed fine. Unhurt. Alive.

That choked feeling rose in Ginny's throat again, at the sight of him. For a moment, she only stood there, and then she was moving, taking a few slow, hesitant steps, which gradually quickened into a rapid walk, and then she was jogging, running, barely sidestepping all the people to keep from running into anyone—

Malfoy, who had been speaking to Tonks, turned around just as Ginny reached him, and she only caught a moment's surprise on his face before she launched herself at him, throwing her arms around him. Malfoy caught her with a bit of a grunt, and after a moment's hesitation, his arms slipped around her as well, holding her tightly.

After several long seconds, he let his arms fall away, and Ginny stepped back. She let out a long, shaky breath, but forced herself to meet his gaze. The guilt that had overwhelmed her was reflected in his own eyes.

"I'm sorry I left you," Ginny said, the words coming out in single rush of breath. She bit her lip, wondering if he understood her double-meaning. Because she'd left him twice, today. Twice in the past twenty-four hours.

Malfoy was quiet for a moment, his face rather expressionless, save for that guilt in his eyes. Then, "I'm sorry I hurt you," he said simply.

The warmth that ran through Ginny at his apology—emerging from her heart and spreading all the way to the tips of her fingers—seemed to melt all the tension and anxiety inside of her. It was like a relief—like confirmation that everything would be okay.

"And I know that's not nearly enough," Malfoy said suddenly, looking uncharacteristically remorseful, "not at all, but I—"

"Malfoy." Ginny surprised herself by managing a laugh. "Coming from a prat like you, it's more than enough." Malfoy scowled at this, and Ginny laughed again, stepping forward to wrap her arms around him a second time. Somehow—impossibly—everything would be okay.

- - - - -

**Author's Notes:**

There should be one more chapter and a short epilogue left!

The Riddle House turned out quite well as the Death Eaters' base I think; in the original, it was Azkaban, but that was more complicated and I think it's been used before. Also, I hope the scene between Lucius and Draco didn't seem to end too abruptly—if you were confused about what Lucius was talking about there, don't worry. Some things are deliberately left mysterious in these last few chapters, to lead up to the sequel.

One last thing I wanted to note, in the first half of the fic, I know it kind of seems like Greyback was going to have more of a role, as he was indicated to sort of be 'in charge' of the Death Eaters. This turned out differently in _Deathly Hallows_, though, and I wanted to go along with that. So my explanation here in the fic is that they sort of used to allow Greyback to think he was in charge, but Bellatrix, over time, has been asserting herself as a leader more and more. Of course, she's crazy, so she's not a very good leader.


	20. Chapter Nineteen

**Author's Notes:** Here is the final chapter and the epilogue! Yes, this fic is now complete. I kind of can't believe it. I mean, when I started this fic, I was just going into college, and now I'm in my last semester of college. That's nuts. Anyhow, I just want to say a **big thanks** to everyone who has ever read and reviewed this fic, even if you were reading it when it began three years ago and never got the chance to stick around and finish it.

________________________________________________________

**Chapter Nineteen**

*******

_August, 2004_

Draco wrenched awake in the darkness, sitting upright in a sea of dark pillows and blue sheets. It was a minute before the nightmarish images running through his head faded from his sight, before his breathing evened out. He swallowed, running a shaking hand through his hair. Then he glanced over to his right, and found Ginny facing him, her eyes blinking open sleepily.

"'s wrong?" she mumbled.

"Nothing." Draco sank back into his pillows, letting out a slow breath. "Go back to sleep."

"Bad dream?"

"Mm-hmm." Draco stared up at the canopy over his head.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Shut up, Weasley."

Not a minute later, Ginny was back asleep, her breathing deep and steady, reassuring. Draco watched her enviously, because he had scarcely had a peaceful night's sleep since being rescued from the Riddle House two months ago. He squeezed his eyes shut now, willing sleep to come, but it eluded him. So he lay awake, until the early morning darkness gradually began to lighten as the dawn approached. The sun had barely begun peeking over the horizon when Draco got out of bed with a sigh, accepting that he would not be getting any more sleep this morning.

He paused, on his way across the bedroom, to look into his son's crib. Will, like Ginny, was sleeping peacefully, making quiet, content, sleepy noises. Draco couldn't help it; in spite of the terrible night he'd had, Will always brought a smile to his face. So he was feeling just a bit better as he slipped into the bathroom and started running his shower for the morning.

Still, even the peace that his son brought him faded as he showered, his thoughts turning troubled. The two weeks following the events at the Riddle House had been tense. Oh, not between him and Ginny—not really, anyway—but because the fear that the Aurors would put two and two together and realize he must have known that the Death Eaters were hiding out in the house loomed over he and Ginny for a while. Ginny had insisted that her certainty that the Death Eaters were at the Riddle House had been " a strong gut feeling," and Draco, as always, simply continued to deny that he'd had any knowledge of the Death Eaters' whereabouts, prior to being taken captive by Theo, who, he'd claimed, had told him where they were.

Some of the Aurors, including Tonks, had been, quite obviously, suspicious about these claims, but no one ever did pursue anything further. What had been even worse than waiting for _that_ ball to drop, however, was waiting for word on his father. Lucius had managed to escape the Riddle House before the Aurors invaded and got in, and as anxious as Draco had been about the Aurors locking himself up, he had been just as anxious about his father, expecting to wake up any morning to hear that Lucius had been caught.

He had not said a word to Ginny about these fears, he had not dared to, considering he was still in shock to find that Ginny had managed to forgive him about lying to protect his father in the first place. And even though Ginny had claimed that she probably would have been tortured and killed in the Riddle House, were it not for Lucius, Draco knew that she still had no love for his father, and he had not wanted to press his luck by bringing him up at all. Still, Ginny wasn't an idiot; she could tell _some_thing had been bothering him, but if she had any idea that it had to do with his father, she said nothing.

So Draco's anxieties over the fallout of the Riddle House had gradually begun to fade, as time passed. But now, this morning, they were all coming up again. And for good reason.

By the time Draco emerged from his shower, Ginny was awake, as was Will, who was sitting in bed with her, beaming brightly. Ginny looked relieved to see him; she immediately held out Will to him. "Here," she said, her voice still laced with sleep, "if you're going for breakfast, you can take him with you. I swear he wakes up earlier and earlier."

"Can't," Draco said lightly. "I'm just going to grab some coffee from the kitchen, and then I'm off."

"You're leaving now?" Ginny frowned, twisting around to glance at the sky outside, which was barely glimmering with the orange glow of sunlight. "Isn't it kind of early?"

"I have an early meeting," Draco lied smoothly, "and it's kind of important, so I want to have plenty of time to prepare."

"Oh." Ginny shot him a disgruntled look.

Draco had to bite back a laugh at her expression. "Come on, Weasley," he said, affecting a stern tone, "what do I pay you for?"

Ginny replied by tossing a pillow at him. Draco ducked and, with a smug grin, slipped out of the room.

In order to keep his thoughts away from his impending 'meeting,' Draco busied himself with thoughts of Ginny, on his way in to the Ministry. When Will was kidnapped, everything that had followed had happened so fast, and Draco hadn't had any time to sort out his feelings about it. He'd gone from being closer to Ginny than ever before, to her leaving him in a pit of despair and loneliness, to her forgiving him and coming back, almost as though nothing had happened. Everything had happened in a blink of an eye, so quickly that Draco almost _could_ believe nothing had happened.

Except that it obviously had, because things had changed. Not between them, really, at least, not perceptibly so. In spite of everything that had happened, things had gone relatively back to normal. On the outside, anyway. And Draco didn't know how Ginny felt, but for him, something was different. Although he had plenty to be worried about these days, the world always seemed a little brighter when he was around Ginny; his worries seemed less important, somehow. And there were times—it happened quite randomly—when he would look over at her, and a funny feeling arose in his chest. It wasn't really an unpleasant feeling, just…a bit strange. Strange and foreign.

There was a deeper, intensely self-aware part of Draco that whispered to him about this feeling, that seemed to know what it was, what it meant. But anytime Draco got close to thinking too much on that, he pulled away from it, ignored it. He wasn't quite willing to go there yet.

Such was the case now, and so, in spite of the distraction it provided, he turned his thoughts away from Ginny. It was just as well, because he'd Flooed into the Ministry and reached his destination—not his office, on the fifth level, but Auror Headquarters, on the second. Where he had been requested for questioning by his cousin.

Auror Headquarters was just barely open for business; there weren't too many people about at this hour. Still, Draco got a few dark looks, a few appraising looks as he passed through, until he reached Tonks' cubicle, far at the end of the corridor.

Her hair was pink this morning. Draco suppressed the urge to roll his eyes at her, as he nearly always did when he saw her. She glanced up when he stopped in front of her cubicle and, without saying a word, without even wishing him a good morning, she stood and walked by him, leading him into one of the rooms they used for questioning.

"What is this about?" Draco asked immediately, as soon as the door shut behind them.

Tonks lifted an eyebrow at him, though she should know better by now, Draco thought, than to expect anything polite out of him. "Why don't you have a seat, Draco," she said, gesturing towards the chair at the table in the center of the room.

"What is this about?" Draco repeated, his voice even.

Tonks sighed. She eyed him for a second longer, as though judging his mood, before taking the seat herself. She folded her hands calmly on the table in front of her and looked up at him. "It's about your father."

Draco stiffened, fighting to keep his expression impassive, though he couldn't keep one of his eyebrows from jumping in shock. His father. What about his father? Had he been caught? No, surely not, surely he would have heard…unless they were keeping it hushed up, for some reason…. Struggling to keep his voice composed, Draco merely said, "Go on."

"We know where he is," Tonks said. Before Draco had time to panic, she amended, "Well. No, we don't, not exactly. I guess you could say we know here he _isn't._"

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "Tonks. Say what you mean, already."

"He's left the country," Tonks said abruptly. "He's gone abroad somewhere…likely, somewhere _very_ far away. Someplace he thinks we can't get to him."

Draco dropped his hand from his face abruptly. "How do you know?"

"This." Tonks stretched out her arm, and Draco saw, now, that she held a tiny scrap of parchment in her hand, something he hadn't noticed before. Frowning, Draco took it from her, unfolding it slowly to read its content.

_Draco,_

Don't expect to hear from me in a while. I'm getting out of the country, and I won't be able to reach you for some time. In case you were wondering, I've taken him with me—so don't forget my warning. I think you'll regret it, if you do.

Your father

Draco's fingers clenched around the note, crinkling the parchment around the edges. He didn't dare a glance up at Tonks, his eyes glued to his father's handwriting. His breathing felt a little constricted, as though he couldn't quite get enough air.

"Draco," Tonks said quietly.

Draco said nothing. He still didn't look up at her.

"Draco," Tonks repeated, "do you know…where he might've gone?"

"How did you get this?" Draco demanded.

"We found it," Tonks said simply. Draco finally glanced up at her, raising an eyebrow in question. Tonks hesitated, before continuing, "We found it…at St. Mungo's. In your mother's hospital room."

Draco went cold. His fingers tightened around the note so much that it crumpled entirely in his hand, and he barely noticed. "What on earth," he said, his voice low but shaking with barely suppressed anger, "were you lot doing in my mother's hospital room?"

"We weren't in there," Tonks hastened to say. "One of the Healers found it and, being aware that your father is a wanted fugitive, they Flooed us. Draco, I have to ask—"

"I don't know where he is," Draco said shortly. "I don't know where he'd go."

"That's not what I was going to ask." Tonks paused. "Well, it was, but there's something else, too. Draco, he obviously meant for you to find this note, not us. Not some Healer. Almost as though he…expected you to be there, shortly after he was."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "I'm not hearing a question," he said, although he was fairly certain he knew where this was headed.

"Fine." Tonks leveled a very direct gaze at him. "Did your father contact you and schedule a time for you to visit your mother?"

"Obviously not," Draco said icily. He didn't like Tonks bringing up his mother again and again; that bothered him more than her accusations. "Or else I would have been there to get the note, instead of someone else."

"Maybe you changed your mind."

"Maybe my father didn't care if you lot found this note," Draco countered. "Seeing as it's told you nothing."

"Fair enough." Tonks eyed him with a narrowed gaze. "And you, Draco? I suppose this note means more to you than it does to us." She glanced at the parchment, still clutched in Draco's fist, as though she could read its contents. More likely, Draco knew, was that she'd read it so many times she had it committed to memory. "He says he's taken 'him' with him. Who is he talking about?"

"I don't know," Draco said stiffly.

Tonks spared him an incredulous glance. "He seems to think you do."

"Well, I don't."

"Then what's the rest of it all about?" Tonks sighed with exasperation. "All that about—what was it? 'Don't forget my warning, or you'll regret it'?" She eyed Draco skeptically. "Sounds more like a threat than a warning to me."

"It's not," Draco said curtly. He hesitated only a second, knowing he had to give Tonks something here. To flatly deny that he knew at all what his father was talking about in that note was ludicrous. "He was just talking about…Ginny."

"Ginny?" Tonks said sharply.

"He thinks I shouldn't be…" Draco pursed his lips, struggling to define what he and Ginny were "…involved with her. He thinks I'll regret it, in the long run. And that's just his opinion," Draco added, when Tonks opened her mouth to interrupt. "Not a threat. He's not planning to do anything to Ginny."

"You know that for sure?" Tonks asked dryly.

"Well, seeing as he's far, far away, I don't see how he could."

Tonks shot him a wry look and came to her feet. She perched on the edge of the table, leaning towards him, and she shot the closed door a quick look, as though to make sure no one was going to come bursting in. "Draco," she said seriously, "I know you said your father didn't contact you about this note—"

"And he didn't, Tonks, I'm not lying!"

"It's just—" Tonks hesitated. "Draco, in this note he says…not to expect to hear from him. That he won't be able to reach you…for a while." She eyed Draco expectantly, as though waiting for some kind of answer from him.

Draco stared stonily back at her.

She heaved a sigh. "Draco, this very much sounds like he usually keeps in contact with you."

"Well, he doesn't." Draco had repeated this lie so many times now that he was beginning to believe it himself.

"And add to that," Tonks went on, ignoring his rebuttal, "the fact that—well, that it was never _really_ explained how Ginny knew that the Death Eaters were at the Riddle House—well." She fixed him with a meaningful look. "Let's just say it would _really_ help you if you could give us some information about where your dad might be."

Draco stared at her, his gaze hard. "What does that mean?"

"It's just that—"

"Are you going to arrest me," he asked coolly, "or not?"

"I don't _want_ to, you git," Tonks said, suddenly exasperated. Suddenly dropping the Auror veneer, and speaking to him the way she'd spoken to him when they'd worked together in France. "I'm trying to help you here. But I'm not the only Auror aware of this note, or aware of how things went down two months ago. I can only help you so much."

Draco was surprised by this admission, although he really shouldn't have been. He and Tonks had been helping each other for a year now. But to hear her say so, out loud, caught him off-guard.

"Look, I really don't know where he is," Draco said honestly. "Normally, my first guess would be France, because we've got family and connections there, but…I think it's a little too close to England, judging by this note. And besides, France isn't nearly as safe for Death Eaters as it used to be…thanks to us."

Tonks rolled her eyes at him. He knew the reminder of their work together wasn't necessary, given what she'd just said, but it couldn't hurt. "Well, if that's really all you know, then—" She shrugged. "There's not much else I can say except, if you learn anything more—if your father contacts you—let us know." She sighed again. "I can only help you so much."

Draco nodded slowly. Yes, she could—and all he could do was hope that it was enough to keep him out of prison.

***

Ginny came out onto the back porch of the Burrow and glanced up wryly into the air, where two tables were hovering. "Really," she said dryly, addressing two of her brothers. "Do we have to do this _every_ time we have a family dinner?"

"When all of us are here?" Bill grinned, still pointing his wand at one of the tables, which he was knocking against Charlie's table. "Yes. As Charlie so rarely graces us with his presence these days." In retaliation, Charlie grinned and knocked his table against Bill's.

"There are children on the ground," Ginny reminded them.

"Oh, don't spoil all the fun, Ginny." George came out of the house to join her, and he spared her an impish wink. "Victoire's safe over there with Fleur, and James is right here." He indicated the red-haired toddler at his side, clinging on to his dad's leg. The little boy shot Ginny a shy smile.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Well, I don't want to be here when disaster strikes. I'm going inside to help Mum."

Her mother was in the kitchen, still busy preparing lunch for the rest of the family, along with Diana, who was helping out. "Ginny, will you please check the potatoes?" her mother asked, tending to something on the stove. "I think they might be burning."

"Sure, Mum."

Her mother spared her a smile. "I am so glad you decided to come, Ginny. It's been ages since we've had—well, everyone here." Her voice wavered a little, and Ginny knew she was thinking of Percy and Ron, and probably even Hermione and Harry. But then she brightened. "And you know, it would be perfectly all right to bring little Will along with you, in the future. No one would mind."

"Really?" Ginny raised an eyebrow. "No one?"

Diana, who was bringing down some plates and silverware, shot her a wry look. "He's only a baby, Ginny, and even George knows that. If he seems…resentful…towards him, it's not really about Will. It's about Draco." She shrugged. "Which isn't much better, I know—"

"But it's something I understand." Ginny sighed. "Well, Will and Draco were going to spend some time together today, anyway. I think Draco was going to take Will out on that toy broomstick Charlie gave him for his birthday."

The family lunch was a huge success, in Ginny's opinion—the food was the best she'd had in ages, and no one ever even mentioned Malfoy, so there were no arguments or awkward situations. After dinner, Diana and Fleur went inside to help Molly with the dishes, but Ginny begged off, hanging out on the back porch with James. She watched Fred, George, and Charlie levitate the tables back to the shed, while Bill and her father went inside to discuss something.

"So, Gin," Fred said with wide, innocent eyes, approaching her once they were done with the tables. "Why didn't you bring Will along with you?" He shot his twin a grin. "James could've had a playmate."

"Oh, yeah," George said unenthusiastically, taking his son from Ginny.

Ginny snorted. "You don't have to pretend to be nice about it, you know. I know you all hate Malfoy. Draco, I mean."

Charlie chuckled. "We don't hate him, Gin."

"_We_ do," George said unabashedly.

"Yeah, how come you don't?" Fred demanded. "What, just because the two of you did that work over on the Continent? But surely you never even _saw_ Malfoy, he was in France the whole time, wasn't he?"

Charlie shrugged. "I didn't see him much, no," he said evasively.

"What does that mean?" Ginny asked, her curiosity piqued.

Charlie sighed, suddenly looking as though he wished he could take back his comment about not hating Malfoy. "Look, I was just a messenger, of sorts. Tonks worked with Aurors and underground resistance movements, trying to get people to fight back, you know. Malfoy and Gabrielle were—well, spies, basically. Malfoy infiltrated the Ministry and the higher society, and Gabrielle gleaned things from the hospital and the everyday people she knew."

Ginny's eyes narrowed. "So Gabrielle and Malfoy worked together the most closely."

Charlie shrugged. "I suppose."

"Doesn't mean anything," George muttered.

To Ginny, though, it did. She had suspected that Malfoy and Gabrielle had grown close while they'd worked in France, which explained why Malfoy had been so upset to hear of her death. It still didn't explain, however, why he _blamed_ himself for her death.

"Anyway, Tonks, Malfoy, and Gabrielle got word to me about everything they were learning, and I passed it on where it needed to go, throughout the rest of the Continent, you know." Charlie shrugged. "So, I had some contact with them, but, no. I didn't see much of them." He shifted uncomfortably.

There was silence for a moment, and then Ginny burst out, "Oh, come on, Charlie. What aren't you saying?"

"Yeah, you still haven't explained why you don't hate Malfoy," Fred pointed out.

Charlie sighed. "We're not really supposed to talk about what happened over there."

"Oh, not you, too," Ginny said in frustration. "I thought Malfoy was just saying that to annoy me. Or because he really didn't want to talk about what happened over there."

"Well—" Charlie looked grim "—in Malfoy's case, that might be true. Considering what he had to…put up with, over there."

"Like what?" George demanded.

"Yeah, like what?" Fred repeated.

Charlie still looked reluctant to talk. Ginny sighed. "Look, we're not asking you to…divulge anything confidential. Just tell us why—" She recalled something then, something Charlie had said earlier about Malfoy "—why you think Malfoy is a decent person."

"Yeah." George looked squeamish at the notion of Malfoy being decent. "Tell us."

"Well…" Charlie rubbed a hand behind his neck. He shot a glance behind him, back into the house, as though to be sure no one else was listening. "All right, fine. But don't tell Remus I told you about this."

Ginny nodded impatiently.

"Look, like I said—" Charlie took a seat on the porch, beside Ginny "—Malfoy had to infiltrate the Ministry, and make contacts with some of the…upper society."

"Shouldn't have been too difficult for him," Fred muttered.

"As I understand it, one night, he went to a dinner party hosted by one such man," Charlie continued. "A Ministry official, and a very wealthy man, as well. Not a Death Eater," he added darkly, "but certainly with similar…tastes as them. Anyway, so Malfoy went over to the man's house for this dinner, and he discovered—quite by accident, I think—that the man was holding three Muggle children captive in his house."

"What?" Ginny gasped. Fred and George exchanged looks of equal horror.

Charlie nodded, his expression flat. "Yeah. I know. The man knew Malfoy found out, and while he didn't say anything very explicitly, Malfoy inferred that the man was holding them for some Death Eater pals."

"And what did they want with them?" George asked, his expression ugly.

"Do you really want to know?" Charlie asked bleakly.

Ginny shuddered. "That's sick. That's really sick."

"Anyway—" Charlie took a deep breath "—the point is, Malfoy knew that whatever the Death Eaters planned to do with those kids, it wouldn't be anything…pleasant. So he went back to the house the next day and got the kids out of there."

"He did what?" Fred looked shocked. "_Why?_"

"Why do you think, Fred?" Ginny said waspishly.

"Well, I know, but…Malfoy?"

"Actually, Remus was pretty angry when he heard what Malfoy had done," Charlie admitted. "I mean, obviously he understood, and honestly, I would've done the same thing and Remus probably would have as well…but you can see how it looked. Malfoy found out they were there, and they went missing the very next day. It was pretty obvious he had something to do with it."

"What did he do with them, then?" Ginny asked, quite desperate to hear the end of this story.

"Well, he got word to me immediately." Charlie shrugged. "So I could help him get them out of the country…somewhere far away, where they'd be safe. We didn't know who their parents were, or even if they had parents, but they couldn't have gone back to them anyway. Too dangerous."

"So you got them out?" George asked.

"It took a few days," Charlie said grimly, "and…well, Malfoy couldn't keep them at his place. Not for his own safety, you understand, but for the children's. His flat would be the first place the Death Eaters would've looked for them. So…" Charlie took another deep breath, and he eyed his three siblings as if anticipating strong reactions "…he took them to Gabrielle's."

"Oh, so she could be in danger, instead," George said angrily.

"Sweet Merlin," Ginny whispered. She covered her hand with her mouth and shut her eyes, as everything came together in her head. Now it all made sense. _This_ was why Malfoy blamed himself for Gabrielle's death, why he claimed he'd led the Death Eaters straight to her. He thought they'd figured out the children had stayed at Gabrielle's for a few days.

"Yeah, I think he does think that," Charlie confirmed, when Ginny spoke her last thought out loud. "When we spoke to Remus at Grimmauld Place…you know, after Gabrielle died…Malfoy seemed to think that had something to do with it."

"It probably did," Fred pointed out bleakly.

"Yeah, but you can't fault Malfoy for it," Charlie reasoned. He shot another glance back at the house—Fleur was inside, after all—and said, "I mean, it's not like he forced Gabrielle to keep those kids there. I think it was her idea, actually, as soon as she heard about it. And where else could they have gone?"

"But you did get them out?" Ginny asked anxiously. "Out of the country?"

Charlie nodded. "Yeah, after a few days. Still, Malfoy and Gabrielle were pretty wary after that."

"I can imagine." Ginny shut her eyes again, thinking back on everything Malfoy had said when Gabrielle had died, going over the way he'd acted in her mind. Of course he blamed himself for it. As horrible as it was, Ginny had to admit that it was very likely the Death Eaters _had_ become suspicious over Gabrielle because of the whole incident. But still—that wasn't Malfoy's fault. He'd saved three children, and somehow, now, he felt _worse_ about himself for it?

And so, although the lunch had been very pleasant, Ginny went home in a subdued mood. She'd expected to be met by Will, who likely would have cheered her up without even meaning to, but the first thing she saw, when she arrived back at the manor, were three Aurors, standing outside on the lawn. Aurors on the grounds in itself was not so unusual these days; there were usually a couple patrolling around, but these three were standing out in the open, at the front door. Ginny went up to them immediately; as it was, she could hardly ignore them on her way inside.

"What's going on?" she demanded of them. "Did something happen?"

One of the Aurors, a man Ginny had worked with back when she was still an Auror, said, "Everything's fine, Ginny, but I think you'd better get inside." His tone was very somber.

Suspicious, Ginny darted inside without another word to them. In the entrance hall, there were even more Aurors, one who was poking around at the armchair in the corner, two others who were talking with Malfoy—or rather, arguing with Malfoy, if his stormy expression and wildly gesturing arms were any indication.

"What's going on?" Ginny demanded, forcing Malfoy to turn away from the Aurors. She stared as they merely walked away, into the drawing room; the door stood wide open and Ginny could see more Aurors inside, peering around. "What are they doing here? Did something—has something happened?"

"Something's happened, all right," Malfoy spat. "The Ministry's taking everything."

Ginny blinked. "What do you mean, taking everything?"

Malfoy gestured around with wide arms. "All the Malfoy assets, the money, the property, the house. Everything. They're seizing all of it."

"Wh-what?" Ginny gaped, feeling as though she'd been punched in the stomach; the shock was that strong. "They're—taking all your stuff? All your money, the—" She swallowed. "The house?"

"Well, not _my_ money," Malfoy growled. "The money that is well and truly mine, and only mine, the money I've earned. And my things—my clothes, the possessions that are solely mine—I keep as well. But everything that is in the Malfoy name, everything that belongs to my father—and anything of value—" He scowled. "They're confiscating it all."

"But _why?_"

"Because my father's left the country," Malfoy snarled. "He's gone abroad, somewhere very far away, where they can't get to him. Obviously, they're hoping that if they cut off all his monetary support, he'll be forced to return. Eventually."

"Will they give it all back if he does?" Ginny asked, her voice nearly a whisper.

Malfoy shrugged. "Who knows," he said bitterly.

"Where's Will?" Ginny asked fiercely.

"Upstairs, with Pansy. Probably should get him out of here—" He snorted. "Won't be long before this lot starts poking around up there, too." He tossed the Aurors a nod, his expression dark.

Ginny stared at Malfoy in consternation. "I'm sorry, Malfoy," she said. A tight feeling had settled in her chest, pity wrenching her heart apart. To hear about what had happened to Gabrielle and Malfoy, and now this… "I'm so sorry."

***

The most pressing matter, as a result of this sudden upheaval, was where Ginny, Malfoy, and Will were going to live, of course. Ginny, having such a large family and support system, had been a little surprised that Malfoy seemed so concerned about this; subconsciously, she had assumed one of her family members would help them out until they found a place of their own. Of course, her subconscious hadn't really factored in Malfoy, and that limited her support system somewhat.

In the end, Bill and Fleur offered to let them stay, which seemed the most agreeable to Ginny. Fleur didn't seem to have any problems getting along with Malfoy, and even Bill did not seem as hostile as Ginny feared. As it was, she needn't have worried at all, because Malfoy was never at Shell Cottage with Will and Ginny. He had to stay at the manor with the Ministry officials, who were overseeing the confiscation of all Malfoy properties and assets. Everything in the manor had to be looked over and determined as to whether it was Malfoy property or in Draco's sole possession, and that process, it seemed, was going to take quite some time.

So while Ginny, with the help of Fleur, looked into cheap flats for rent, Malfoy spent his days (and often his nights) at the manor, working tirelessly with the Ministry officials. She hadn't actually spoken with Malfoy about where they were going to live, but as he was entirely consumed by the work at the manor—not to mention, consumed by anger and panic—Ginny took it upon herself. She knew Malfoy would probably rather receive the Dementor's Kiss than live in a Muggle establishment, but she looked into Muggle flats as well as wizarding ones. She and Fleur had just arrived back home with the children, after looking at such a Muggle flat, when Ginny asked Fleur if she would be all right looking after both children while she took a nap.

"Of course," Fleur assured her. "I will be just fine wiz zem. You get some rest."

Ginny didn't know how long she slept, but when she finally drifted awake, head buried in her pillow, she realized she'd been asleep longer than she meant to. Groggily, Ginny rolled over onto her back, flinging her arm out across the bed. Only, her arm didn't hit the bed. It hit something solid and warm.

Ginny blinked, trying to shake off the disorientation. She glanced over and found Malfoy lying, dead asleep, in the bed beside her. She was now pressed comfortably against his side, her arm having hit him in the chest. He mumbled in his sleep and turned towards her slightly, but his eyes remained firmly shut.

More awake now, Ginny observed him carefully; she was practically holding her breath so as not to disturb him. Even in sleep, he looked exhausted. His hair was mussed, his face rather grey. He was fully dressed, with the exception of shoes and his usual tie, and his shirt and pants were thoroughly wrinkled. She thought he looked troubled, as though his sleep wasn't quite peaceful.

She resisted the urge to reach out and brush a strand of hair out of his face. From the moment she'd seen him at the manor, when he'd broken the news to her, he'd seemed so furious that it was difficult to tell what else he was feeling. But beneath all the boiling anger, she thought she'd caught a glimpse of panic, of fear. Malfoy had lived in that house all his life, and the wealth and prestige that came along with his name had always been a constant to him, like breathing. Now it was suddenly all gone, and she thought she could understand why that would terrify him. His entire life had been uprooted.

He frowned in his sleep, twitching a little, before leaning in even closer to Ginny. She instinctively pulled away, without even meaning to. Well, she needed to get up, anyway. She'd napped much too long, leaving Fleur to look after both of their kids.

In the kitchen, however, Fleur was not alone. "Mum!" Ginny gaped at her mother, who was standing with Fleur at the kitchen counter. "What are you doing here?"

"Just visiting, Ginny," her mother said, accepting a cup of tea from Fleur. "I just wanted to check in on the both of you—" She indicated Ginny and Fleur "—to make sure you were all right. And Fleur's set tea out for us." She nodded towards the table, where Ginny now saw a variety of biscuits, as well as cream and sugar, were laid out.

"Oh." Ginny blinked. "Thanks, Fleur." She went to pour herself a cup of tea, glancing into the adjoining living room as she did. "Where are Will and Victoire? And when did Malfoy get here?" she asked.

"Zey are both taking a nap," Fleur said in her thickly-accented voice. "And Malfoy, 'e arrived about one hour ago. 'e stumbled in without one word and went into your room. 'e looked 'alf-asleep as it was."

"He's here?" Ginny's mother said sharply, as she took a seat at the table

Ginny nodded, pointing up the stairs. "Asleep."

"'e did drop zat off zere." Fleur indicated a valise in the living room. "I theenk eet eez some of your clothes."

"Well." As Ginny took a seat, her mother reached over to squeeze her shoulder, as though in comfort. "How have you been, Ginny? I know this must have come as quite a shock—and you've been living in that house for, well, I suppose for about a year now—"

"I'm fine, Mum, really," Ginny insisted. "I mean—I sort of hated that house, you know." She was as surprised to hear herself utter these words as her mother and Fleur looked to hear them.

"But why?" Fleur demanded. "Eet eez a beautiful 'ouse."

Ginny ignored this.

"Really, Ginny," her mother said, "after everything you said about the place at Christmas—I mean, I can certainly understand _why_ you might hate the place, but none of that seemed to bother you—"

"It really didn't." Ginny sighed. "At the time. But a lot more has happened since Christmas, you know, and…I mean, even after they caught Nott, it was difficult to feel…safe…there." She blew out a breath. "And, well, it's not even that, really. It's just…" She shrugged. "I mean, I felt at home there, but not because of the house. I felt at home there in _spite_ of the house. Because…well, because I had Will." She paused. "And Malfoy."

Just then, before either Fleur or her mother could respond, Malfoy himself came stumbling down the stairs and into the kitchen-dining room. He didn't appear to have heard what Ginny had been saying at all; he was still bleary-eyed and unfocused. He didn't even seem to see any of them, as he walked past the table without a single word, going straight to the counter to fix himself a cup of coffee.

Ginny tossed him a glance. "Sorry, Malfoy, I hope I didn't wake you."

If he heard this, Malfoy gave no indication. He only leaned his arm against a cupboard and rested his head there, waiting for his coffee to brew.

"Anyway—" Ginny spared Malfoy one last glance before turning back to her mother and Fleur. "What was I saying?"

"Erm—" Her mother tore her eyes away from Malfoy. She had a rather peculiar expression on her face that Ginny couldn't really place. "I'm not sure. Oh, about the house. Well, Ginny, I hope you find a place of your own soon, but you know you're always welcome with us."

"And wiz us," Fleur added, tossing Molly a sharp glance. Ginny stifled a giggle; even after all these years, Fleur and her mother still rubbed each other the wrong way sometimes.

"Oh, of course," her mother said absently.

Fleur seemed to repress a scowl as she got to her feet. "I am going to check on ze babies."

"I was so glad you were able to make it to lunch with us last week, Ginny," her mother went on, as Fleur left the room. "I only wish—" She sighed "—that it hadn't taken us so long to get you there."

"Oh—well—" Ginny broke off, slightly startled, when Malfoy slid into the chair at the head of the table, with Ginny on his left and her mother on his right. His attention was still solely on his coffee, and she could see why—he looked terrible. His eyes were bloodshot and darkly circled, his skin very pale. She frowned when he glanced up, his gaze meeting hers. "They finally gave you an hour to sleep, did they?"

Malfoy grunted. "I've slept." He flung out and arm and pointed vaguely, in the general direction of the living room. "I brought some of your clothes."

"Thanks." Ginny continued to eye him critically, but she dropped the subject of him sleeping and said, "Fleur and I have been looking at flats, Malfoy."

Malfoy's groggy gaze instantly sharpened, his eyes alighting with suspicion. "What kind of flats?"

"You know…flats."

"Like…_Muggle_ flats?"

Ginny shrugged, deigning not to answer this question either way.

"I am _not_ living in a Muggle flat, Weasley," Malfoy instantly objected.

"Well, we have to live somewhere," Ginny pointed out with a tinge of exasperation.

Oh." Now Malfoy shrugged, draining the last of his coffee. "Well, I think I have a house, anyway, so that's not much of a problem. Unless it was confiscated along with my trust fund," he added darkly.

Ginny stared at him. Without even realizing it, she exchanged a slightly incredulous glance with her mother. Then, "You have a house?" her mother inquired, her tone ridiculously polite.

Malfoy nodded. "It's technically Malfoy property, but it was allotted to me when I was born—only, I haven't needed it until now. It should've legally passed to me when I turned seventeen, I think. There are some stipulations to it, but fairly standard stuff. Graduated from Hogwarts, working at the Ministry—that sort of thing. I'll have to check on it."

"Yes, please, do," Ginny said icily. "As a favor to _me_, at least, since you never even told me about this! Are you saying I've been flat-hunting for nothing?"

"There are those stipulations," Malfoy pointed out.

"And why was your trust fund confiscated?" Ginny frowned. "Isn't that _your_ money? Why can they take that from you?"

"Because it's a large sum of money—" Malfoy scowled "—which they think I might use to give to my father as monetary support."

Molly Weasley raised an eyebrow. "Would you?" she asked bluntly.

"Probably. Or, well, it depends." When Molly spared him a disapproving glance, Malfoy shrugged and said, rather unapologetically, "He is my father."

"I suppose," Molly sighed.

"Anyway, if he ever turns up they'll have to give it back," Malfoy said, "but for now, I can't access that money."

Money. _Money_. Ginny's eyes widened, and she drew a sudden gasp. Both Malfoy and her mother tossed her startled looks, as though she were choking. "Money," she said, looking at Malfoy with excited eyes. She grabbed his wrist. "Money, Malfoy, money!"

"Yes, money. It's very important." Malfoy grabbed her hand and removed it from his wrist, eyeing her as though he thought she'd finally lost her mind.

"No, I mean—Malfoy, I have money! I have all that money you paid me for looking after Will, that ridiculous amount of money that I could've bought three houses with—"

But Malfoy was shaking his head. "Weasley, you don't have that money. You never confirmed the transfer, remember?"

"But—" Ginny frowned. "But it's still mine, isn't it? You wired it into my account—"

"It never went in," Malfoy insisted, "because you didn't confirm it. Gringotts is still holding it in its own account. The only way you can get it is if I release it to you, which I haven't." Malfoy looked a bit guilty. "I meant to set it up so that you got a monthly stipend—ten thousand galleons per month—"

"_How_ much?" Ginny's mother looked aghast. Ginny nodded silently at her, remembering her own shock when Malfoy had put this to her.

"—but I never got around to it." Malfoy rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "So, er, that money is just sitting there. It's yours, technically, but you can't access it until I release it to you."

"So release it to me," Ginny said impatiently.

"I _can't_, Weasley, don't you get it? The Ministry isn't allowing me any kind of access to that sort of money. I can't access it because they think I'll steal it, for my father. It doesn't matter if all I need to do is release it to you. I have no way of doing anything with that money, I'm not allowed."

"But—" All of Ginny's elation seemed to seep out of her, leaving her feeling even more disappointed and hopeless than before. "But it's _my_ money. Technically."

"Doesn't matter."

Ginny sank back into her chair. Malfoy took a bite of a shortbread biscuit, looking just as frustrated. Molly Weasley, however, looked thoughtful. "Wouldn't there be a way around that," she said, "if you two got married?"

Malfoy choked on his shortbread.

"If we did _what?_" Ginny exclaimed.

"It's just a suggestion," her mother said innocently.

Malfoy coughed, taking a deep gulp of Ginny's tea to clear his throat. "And _how_ do you figure that, exactly?"

"Well, she can't access it because it's not her money," Molly pointed out, "but if you were married, your money would be her money. And _you_ still wouldn't be able to touch it, of course, but she would then have the power to release it. To herself."

Malfoy blinked. Then his eyes narrowed.

"I don't think that would really work," Ginny said, fighting back a surge of panic.

"Probably not," Malfoy agreed, though his tone was rather reluctant and he still had a pensive gleam in his eyes. "I mean, even still, they might not let Ginny access it, _because_ we would be married and our money would be shared. With her legally tied to me, they wouldn't want her getting her hands on any large sum of money, either."

Ginny tried not to choke on the phrase 'legally tied to me.'

"Well, that would be the argument, I suppose," her mother agreed, "but it would be a thinner one. You could probably fight it, with a good attorney. I suppose you have a family one?"

Malfoy nodded slowly.

"Only—only—" Honestly, Ginny thought, was she the only one who didn't see this as the perfect solution? "—only, we're not _actually_ considering this, right, because getting married to get _money_ is just ridiculous, and—and—and anyway, you said you probably have that house, so—so there's no need for that money right away, anyway. Right?" She glanced between Malfoy and her mother a bit desperately.

"I don't really agree with the ridiculous part," Malfoy mused, "but, yes, I've probably got that house, so there's no point, really."

"And it was just an idea, Ginny," her mother said with a laugh. "Of course, I don't think anyone should get married over money." In spite of these words, Ginny thought her mother was glancing between Malfoy and Ginny speculatively. Or was she just imagining it?

"Well—well, good," Ginny said emphatically. "Because seeing as we don't even know if that would work, it's really not worth the risk."

"Risk? Marrying me is a risk?" Malfoy grumbled, as he rose to his feet for another cup of coffee. "Thanks, I like you, too."

Ginny rolled her eyes at him.

Fleur came back into the room, then, carrying a serene Victoire in her arms. "Will, 'e eez still sleeping, Draco. I did not theenk I should wake 'im, but per'aps—?"

Malfoy shook his head as he filled his coffee cup. "No, don't wake him. It's fine, I'll just check in on him."

When Malfoy left the room to look in on Will, Ginny followed him. Will was sleeping in Victoire's nursery upstairs, in a play pen set beside Victoire's crib. He looked incredibly peaceful, and Ginny smiled. "He's probably wiped out," she said quietly. "We were out for quite a while this morning, and he never wanted to be in the pram. He was running around everywhere."

A rare, brief smile lit Malfoy's face.

For some reason, this brought a familiar wrench of pity to Ginny's chest. "I'm sorry, Malfoy," she said suddenly.

He raised an eyebrow. "For what?"

"For—" She gestured vaguely "—all of this."

Malfoy snorted. "It's not your fault."

"It's not yours, either," she said firmly, mostly because Malfoy had a tendency for blaming himself for things these days. In spite of that, she was caught a little off-guard when a guilty look passed through Malfoy's eyes. Ginny stiffened, stifling a surge of alarm. She'd seen that look before.

"What?" she demanded.

"Nothing."

"_What_, Malfoy?" Ginny demanded. The surge of alarm was growing, and she realized why now—because the last time Ginny had seen that look on Malfoy's face, he'd just told her that he'd known where the Death Eaters were hiding out, with Will.

Malfoy blew out a breath. He tossed Will one last glance and then stepped out into the corridor, beckoning for Ginny to come with him. "It's nothing, it's just—" He cleared his throat. "Look, a couple of weeks ago, I…talked to Tonks. In an official capacity," he added, when Ginny turned a blank look on him.

"You mean she called you in for questioning?" Ginny said sharply. "Wait—a couple weeks ago? Malfoy, why didn't you tell me!"

"Because it was no big deal," Malfoy said, though the aggravated tone of his voice belied his words. He started down the staircase, Ginny right behind him. "She'd just found out that my father had left the country—they found a note he'd left, like I told you—and she wanted me to tell her where he is."

At the base of the stairs, Ginny came to a panicked halt, drawing in a sharp breath. Malfoy evidently heard her and swung around to face her. The expression on his face told Ginny he knew exactly what she was thinking—what she was fearing. "Ginny—_no_," he said emphatically. He stared into her eyes, as if willing her to read the truth there. "I don't know where he is this time, I swear, I swear it on my mother's life. I really don't."

Ginny slowly let out the breath she'd taken in, swallowing as she nodded. "Okay. I…believe you."

Malfoy stared at her a moment longer before he nodded and turned back, heading into the small living room. Ginny followed, absently spotting her mother and Fleur, who were in the kitchen, chatting animatedly together as they cleaned up.

"Anyway," Malfoy went on, collapsing heavily onto the sofa, "so I told Tonks that, but she…well—" He hesitated. "She implied that the Aurors still suspect that I…had knowledge of the Death Eaters whereabouts, knowledge I withheld." He swallowed visibly. "And then she implied that if I couldn't give her any current information, the Ministry would find…some way of punishing me. Since they couldn't prove anything and send me to prison."

"But that's ridiculous!" Ginny burst out. Her mother threw her a startled glance from the kitchen. "They can't do that, Malfoy, you said it yourself, they can't prove anything, so they don't have the right to _punish_ you. And that's what you're saying, isn't it, that that's really why they've taken everything from you?"

Malfoy shook his head. "No, the real reason _is_ because of my father. It's just…maybe, the reason they're being so strict about it—like not allowing me access to that money that's technically yours—is because of that."

Ginny folded her arms over her chest, fuming. It was a couple of seconds before she realized her anger wasn't all for the Ministry. "Malfoy, why didn't you tell me about this? Why didn't you tell me Tonks questioned you!"

"I told you, it wasn't a big deal," Malfoy said testily.

"Well, obviously it was," Ginny retorted. "Honestly, Malfoy, don't you _trust_ me?"

Malfoy's eyes darkened in an instant, like oncoming storm clouds. He lurched to his feet so quickly that Ginny almost took a step back in alarm. "Do _I_ trust _you?_" he said, his words coming from between gritted teeth. "Try the other way around, Weasley. You don't trust _me_. Just admit it, already."

Ginny gaped. "I—I told you I forgave you about—about what happened—" She amended her words quickly at the last minute, suddenly aware that the kitchen had gone quiet and Fleur and her mother could hear every word she said.

"That's not what I'm talking about," Malfoy said swiftly, his voice pitched low. "You haven't told me everything about what happened in the Riddle House, Weasley. Do you think I haven't noticed? You said no one did anything to you, but I don't believe it. You're hiding something, something about what happened there."

"And you're not?" Ginny shot back.

A shocked silence fell between the both of them. Ginny didn't realize she had been thinking these words until they were out of her mouth. But it was true. Maybe she _was_ hiding something from him, something that had happened in the Riddle House, but anything that told him this, anything he'd picked up on—any uneasiness on her part, any strain she hadn't been able to hide—had been reflected in his own behavior. He was an idiot if he thought she hadn't noticed how restless he slept, or that she hadn't caught those occasional, anxious glances that seemed to come without warning. He was hiding something, too.

And he didn't have any right to hide anything from her. Ever again.

"I have to get back to the manor," Malfoy finally said, after several long, tense seconds. His eyes were still dark with anger, but his breathing sounded a little constricted, as though he was struggling to hold something back.

"Fine," Ginny snapped. "Don't bother to explain anything, as usual. Just go."

And he did. Without another word, with both Fleur and her mother looking on with wide eyes, he stalked out of the house and was gone.

Ginny didn't expect to see him again for the next several days; as long as he could stay at the manor and avoid her, surely he would. She went to bed that night in a huff, still angry at his stubborn persistence to hide things from her, and still feeling a bit guilty herself, seeing as she was hiding something as well. At least _she_ had good reason to, what was his excuse?

She lay awake for several hours, both due to the long nap she'd taken during the day and due to her own anger. Eventually, she became drowsy and drifted off into a fitful sleep. She didn't know how long she'd been asleep when she was awoken suddenly. She blinked her eyes open warily, unsure why she'd woken up.

Then she saw a pair of eyes staring her in the face and she barely stifled a scream.

"Malfoy!" Forcing herself to breathe evenly, Ginny shoved herself upright, glaring at the man standing before her. "Don't—don't _do_ that!"

Malfoy looked back at her unrepentantly. "Sorry."

"Merlin," she muttered, running her hands through her sleep-tousled hair. Abruptly recalling their argument earlier, she gazed up at him through baleful eyes. "What are you doing here?" she asked sullenly. She glanced out the window on her right, taking in the black night sky outside. "And what bloody _time_ is it, anyway?"

"Just past midnight," Malfoy said. His grey eyes gleamed in the streak of moonlight shining in through the window, the only light in the dark room. "I snuck away from the Ministry officials to come back here. _Not_ that they would ever notice I was gone anyway, there are so many of them crawling around the manor." He sounded bitter.

"So, what?" Ginny looked away from him, unable to hide the resentment in her voice. "Wanted to catch a few more hours of sleep, is that it?"

"Might be nice." Malfoy's voice was quiet. "But, no, that's not why I came back."

Ginny looked up at him sharply. Her eyes met his, but she said nothing, and for a moment, neither did he. Then he sighed, breaking the tension between them. "I wanted to…explain to you."

"Explain what? Whatever it is that you're not telling me?"

Malfoy's jaw tightened visibly, and he glanced away for a moment. "I…can't."

"Then why—" Ginny let out an explosive breath. "Then why are you even here?"

"Because I want you to understand why." Quite suddenly, Malfoy dropped onto the bed beside her, forcing her to scoot over a little and make room for him, as he sat beside her. His expression was conflicted as he looked at her; consternation warring with guilt, filling his eyes with something like self-loathing. "Look, I know it isn't fair, okay? I know, after…what happened…" He swallowed. "After keeping the Death Eaters' whereabouts hidden…I know I haven't got any right to ask you this, okay?"

Ginny folded her arms across her chest, like a barrier, keeping him sealed away from her. "Ask me what?" she demanded.

"To…not ask me about what happened at the Riddle House."

"You're right," Ginny said, surprised that she was able to keep her voice so even. Pinpricks of that same agony she'd felt, when Malfoy had lied to her, betrayed her, poked at her now, threatening to return in full force. She clenched her teeth against the pain. "It's not fair. You _don't_ have any right to—"

"But listen to me, Weasley." Malfoy grabbed her wrist and gave it a gentle tug, like he was trying to force her around to look at him. She flinched at the touch of his fingers on her skin, but, reluctantly, she met his gaze. "Not telling you about…where the Death Eaters were…that was different. That was…" He shook his head. "Look, at the Riddle House, I found out—my father told me—something…" He glanced away for a moment, but then seemed to force himself to meet her gaze again. "And I—I _can't_ tell you about it, Weasley. But…" He blew out a breath, scrubbing his free hand through his hair.

Ginny considered him for a moment, curious in spite of herself. "But what?"

"But…look, what I _can_ tell you—" He latched onto her gaze with his own, staring her right in the eye, and Ginny forced herself to stare back "—is that I'm not hurting anyone by keeping this secret, okay? No harm will come to Will, or to—or to you. I swear that, Gin."

Ginny swallowed, nearly overwhelmed by the intensity in his gaze, in his words.

"Now will you please—_please_—just accept that? Because I'm asking you to?" Malfoy's fingers tightened around her wrist, though not painfully so. More as though to emphasize his plea.

"I…" Ginny let out a shaky breath. She looked into his eyes and tried to force herself to believe him. The little stabbing pains slowly receded, slowly faded, as she took in the sincerity in his expression. It was not something she normally saw on his face, this open, naked, complete expression of what he was thinking, what he was feeling. It was shocking, in a way, but also exceedingly reassuring. "Okay," she sighed. "I…accept it. I don't really like it, but I…don't hold it against you. I understand, I suppose."

"Good." Malfoy looked genuinely relieved. "Now—"

"But," Ginny interrupted him, suddenly unable to keep this onslaught back, this sudden urge to express her own feelings. Perhaps it was because he had laid himself bare, or because of the darkness of the night, pressing in around her, but she couldn't keep herself from confessing her own fears. "But, Malfoy, is that—what you're not telling me—is that what's been bothering you? Because I'm not blind, and I'm not stupid, Malfoy. I…_know_…you—" She swallowed. Thinking of just how well, how deeply she knew him, almost hurt. "I sleep beside you every night, and I know that something—you never sleep well, not anymore. Is that…is that because of what happened—because of this _thing_ you're hiding from me?"

Malfoy had grown tenser as she spoke, his shoulders set, his grip on her wrist still, poised. The open expression on his face closed off completely, and he was again the Malfoy she was used to, the one who hid everything so well. Still, he hesitated. "That's…I…" He glanced away. "That's something else."

"Tell me." When he didn't answer, Ginny shifted closer to him, as though invading every inch of his space would force him to look at her. Her knee pressed against his, and he did look at her then, though resentfully, as though she wasn't playing fair. "Malfoy, please."

A muscle worked in his jaw, as he remained silent for several more seconds, and then he said, rather abruptly, "It's just something…Theo said to me. When he was holding me captive, in his basement."

Ginny frowned, a little thrown. She hadn't expected that; Malfoy had only told her, with a roll of his eyes, that Theo had prattled insane nonsense at him when he'd been holding Malfoy captive. "What did he say?"

Another pause. And then he said, rather flatly, "He told me that Gabrielle's death wasn't an accident."

Ginny sucked in a sharp breath. She thought she could actually feel the blood drain from her face. "He said…_what?_ But—maybe he was lying—"

"He wasn't, he…knew details," Malfoy said grimly. Ginny thought her expression must have been aghast, because he amended, "Not details about her death, just about…what led to it. What the Death Eaters knew about her, why they—why they killed her—" He shut his eyes briefly, as though blinking very slowly.

Ginny looked at him carefully, but her mind was spinning. She thought back on everything Charlie had told her only a few days ago, and then she cast her mind back further, recalling that night, after they'd been to visit Grimmauld Place because of Gabrielle's death. And she remembered something he'd said then, with such bitterness and guilt—

_It doesn't matter. It probably didn't make any difference, and look what it's cost—_

"It did make a difference," she said slowly.

Malfoy stared at her, nonplussed. "What?"

She glanced back over at him, with a sort of fierce determination. "Charlie told me," she said abruptly. "About those Muggle children. That you saved, from that man's house, those children you and Gabrielle saved. Well, and Charlie," she added, almost as an afterthought.

Malfoy looked pale in the darkness, paler than usual. "He told you what?"

"That's why you blame yourself, isn't it?" she pressed. She shifted her hand around, so that it was now her hand gripping _his_ wrist. "That's obviously why you were so convinced the Death Eaters had killed her, even…before Nott told you. And that's why you feel responsible—"

"I _am_ responsible—"

"But, Malfoy, don't you get it?" Ginny shook her head. "You told me—back then, when she died—you said it didn't make any difference, that it didn't matter. But you were wrong, Malfoy, you saved three lives—"

"So what?" Malfoy said harshly. He made a rather feeble attempt at pulling his wrist from Ginny's grasp, failing when her grip tightened. "I saved them, so what? You don't think those Death Eaters went and found three more children to replace them? And Gabrielle…she died too, because of that…so it _doesn't_ matter—"

"You're not getting it!" Ginny stared at him, incredulity mingling with consternation on her face. "Malfoy, of course it matters. You _saved_ those three children. Whatever happened, or happens, to anyone else, _those_ kids will go on to live happy, full lives. Because of _you_. And, yes—" She ran a hand through her hair, wishing he could understand "—maybe other children have died. And yes, Gabrielle died, other people are hurting and suffering and dying all the time, Malfoy, because of horrible things that people like the Death Eaters do. But it's not about numbers. Those three children—they _matter_, Malfoy. The individuals matter, in fact, they may be the only thing that matters."

Malfoy stared at her, his eyes frustrated and desperate at the same time, clinging on to every word she said.

"And I wish you could see that," she sighed. "I wish you could see the world like that. Because Gabrielle—" He flinched when she spoke her name "—saw it like that. And if she'd known, that she was going to die as a result of saving those children, she would have done it anyway. And died happily."

Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "How can you possibly know that?"

Ginny shrugged. "Because I would have, too."

Several long seconds of silence stretched out between them. Then Malfoy let out a shaky, short laugh and said, "Really, Weasley? You think talking about you _dying_ is going to make me feel better?"

"Well." Ginny quirked a smile. "I don't actually have plans on going anywhere anytime soon." She frowned. "And you had better not either, you prat."

"Weasley. Please." Malfoy rolled his eyes and lifted a finger to point at himself. "Slytherin, remember?"

Ginny rolled her eyes as well. "Just—stop blaming yourself for Gabrielle's death, okay? She knew the dangers full well when she took those kids in. And you can't really regret the decision, because you saved their lives. So there's no point in dwelling on it."

"Yeah." Malfoy's brow was furrowed.

Ginny failed to suppress a yawn, and she nestled down beneath the covers, growing sleepy again. "So are you going to sleep before you go back, or what?"

Malfoy's eyes were darkly pensive. "I guess."

"Mm-kay." Ginny let her eyes fall shut.

"Weasley."

"Hmm?"

"Are—" Even with her eyes shut, she could hear the hesitation in his voice. "Are you going to tell me anything? About…what happened to you in the Riddle House?"

Ginny's eyes flew open, alarm bells going off in her head. Still, she remained mostly calm and composed and said, "What, don't I get to plead the fifth, like you?" She tried to sound flippant, but she wasn't sure it came out right.

"Look, Weasley." Malfoy sighed. "I'm not going to be even more of a hypocrite and make you tell me—"

"Good, because you can't _make me_ do anything—"

"I just—" A smile flickered briefly over his face at her interruption, but it was gone in an instant, and his expression was sober once again. "I just want to know…that nothing…that you're okay. Isn't that all you wanted to know?"

Ginny turned on her side and propped her head in her hand, so she could look him straight in the eye, as he had done with her. "I'm okay."

He sighed. "Yeah, but—"

"Nothing—" She broke off, hesitating for a second. "No one hurt me," she said finally. "Maybe that's hard for you to believe, but really, no one hurt me. They were _going_ to, I'm sure, but I really wasn't there all that long, you know."

"Are you sure?" Malfoy said quietly.

"Yes, I'm sure." When he still didn't look quite convinced, Ginny said, "Malfoy, I swear. I swear, no one hurt me." She cocked an eyebrow. "Now, I believed you when _you_ made me a promise. Aren't you going to believe me?"

"All right, all right." Malfoy rolled his eyes and muttered something that sounded like, "Wench."

Ginny eyed him suspiciously for a moment, but she was too tired to keep that up. She was already struggling to keep her heavy eyelids from falling shut. "Are you going to stay?" she asked, a distinctly sleepy note to her voice.

"I guess I could," Malfoy said, a little reluctantly. "I wasn't really supposed to leave, though."

Ginny forced her eyes open, and she focused her groggy gaze on him. "Stay. Sleep."

"Okay," he murmured, giving in. He was probably so exhausted that it didn't really take much convincing. He begin to lie back slowly, simultaneously pulling himself up fully onto the bed. He raised an eyebrow at Ginny when she didn't scoot over, leaving him not much room at all. Or rather, not much room between the two of them. With her pressed against his side, he asked, "Are you going to move?"

Ginny pretended to think about this for a moment. "No."

A flicker of surprise passed through Malfoy's eyes, but only for a moment. "Okay." He let his head fall back, coming to rest on the pillows. As Ginny had not moved, her own head lay very comfortably against his chest. He pulled his arm back and around her, and it was both an odd and comfortable sensation for Ginny, that she was right where she was supposed to be.

She considered this as her thoughts began to shut down, her eyes closing, her breathing slowing. For a moment, she imagined how she might have felt, had someone told her, a year ago, that she would be here, in this moment, right now. And for a moment, she tried to think of the situation—she, Ginny Weasley, sleeping in Draco Malfoy's arms, perfectly content and completely at peace—as she would have a year ago. As absurd and unbelievable and wrong.

But it was useless, and stupid. Something that made her feel this right could never be wrong. Regardless of names and families and bloodlines and childhood feuds, she'd found a life that made her ridiculously happy, in this dark and unforgiving world. And that was really all that mattered.

- - - - -


	21. Epilogue

**Author's Notes: **Just a reminder, I posted the last chapter and the epilogue together, so if you haven't read Chapter Nineteen, be sure you do.

And lastly, the epilogue; it's quite short. This epilogue ties up one or two loose ends, though it also opens a few more, to set things up for the sequel fic. I meant to wait a bit before starting on the sequel, but I'm so excited that I can't. So maybe keep a look out for it in this coming week. It will be entitled **Economy of the Heart**.

Speaking of titles, now you know why this fic was named as it is. The title is from a quote by Dwan Jacobsen Young, and it's a quote that I felt pertained to one of the themes of the story, mostly to Ginny's theme, to the struggle she goes through in this story. If you felt like this story focused more on Ginny, that's because I consider _The Enemy of Souls_ to be more her story than Draco's. Likewise, _Economy of the Heart_ will be more Draco's story than Ginny's.

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**Epilogue**

*******

"_Hopelessness may be the saddest word in our language. Despair is the enemy of our souls. It can paralyze us, halt our progress, and cause us to lose our way. But hope awakens us like a light shining in the darkness."_

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Draco eased open the door to the second-floor flat so carefully, an observer might have thought he expected it to explode at any moment. He was half-hoping it would, and spare him the torment of looking at this place, let alone pretend that he was actually going to consider it as a place to live.

But then, he'd promised Ginny he would come. So here he was.

The place was unbelievably small, but then, Draco had expected that, so in a strange way, it wasn't quite as terrible as he'd imagined it might be. He shoved that stray thought firmly from his mind; _of course_ it was that terrible. For Merlin's sake, his closet in the manor was as big as this empty living room. And his bathroom was probably as big as the whole flat, or at least, the bit that he could see, here, in this space.

Draco dared to take another step inside, glancing around. The place appeared to be empty, though the landlord—a _Muggle_, Draco still couldn't believe he'd actually spoken to the man—had said that Ginny was already here. "Weasley?" he called out.

"Malfoy, is that you?" She appeared quickly, from the tiny corridor leading off to the right. She brightened when she saw him, and Draco couldn't help but think that she looked remarkably at home here. Her vibrant red hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail, and she was dressed simply in cropped jeans and a blue, fitted t-shirt. She gestured around the small flat with one hand. "Well, what do you think? I was just looking at the bedroom."

Though he really had no desire to, for Ginny's sake, he surveyed the room around him, taking it all in. There really was no foyer at all, though the landlord had been prattling on about how wonderful the 'entrance hall' was. The flat opened up into the living room space, which was made of light hardwood floors and plain walls painted a pinkish, off-white color. There was a very small, white fireplace set in the far wall, a Muggle light overhead, and three large windows at the front which, Draco had to admit, let in a good bit of light. The kitchen was virtually in the same room, taking up the far corner past the living room area. There were several cabinets of an ugly brownish color, a stove, and a rather small sink set in the counter, just below another window.

Draco cleared his throat. "It's…nice."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Yes, I'm sure you love it."

"Did you say bedroom?" Draco furrowed his brow. "As in, one?"

"Well, there is a sort of smaller room that I think is meant to be more of a closet," Ginny admitted. "Or maybe a small office space. But Will's crib should fit in it just fine. I mean, not _his_ crib, not the one we used at the manor, because it's too big…but Diana said we could use James' old one. We'll have to give it back eventually, of course, but I don't think Will is really going to need a crib much longer, anyway."

"Yes, then we can just get him a bed that will fit in a closet," Draco said critically. "He can live like bloody Potter."

Ginny frowned. "How did you know Harry used to…sleep in a closet?"

"Please, Weasley, everyone knows that."

"Well, there's plenty of space out here, anyway," Ginny pointed out, "which is where he would spend most of his time. And there's a really large garden out back—a communal garden, of course, but it's really nice."

Draco sighed. "Weasley. We're in _Manchester_."

"Yes, so?"

"So it gets bloody cold in Manchester," Draco grumbled. "Might as well move back to Hogwarts."

"Oh, please, it doesn't get _that_ cold." Ginny shot him a wry look. "Anyway, you should be pleased, we'll be close to Pansy. Of course, she lives in the more…affluent…area of town. Down on that street where all the fancy townhouses are—"

A pang of annoyance and disappointment hit Draco at the mention of townhouses. The house that he was supposed to have—the house that should have been his—was a townhouse, a very large, nice townhouse in London. But the townhouse was not his. An inquiry into the matter had gotten him a quick reply; he did not meet all the stipulations required to own the house.

"Speaking of townhouses," Ginny said suddenly, apparently thinking along the same lines as he, "did you ever find out _why_ you didn't get yours? Your house, I mean?"

Draco coughed, feeling inexplicably uncomfortable. "Er…yes. I didn't meet all of the stipulations." When Ginny nodded and gestured impatiently, he clarified, "One of the stipulations is that I have to…be married. And, well, I'm not."

"Oh." A mingled look of surprise and confusion passed over Ginny's face. "That's…odd."

"Not really," Draco drawled. "The stipulations were set by my father. What the 'marriage' part of it actually means is that I have to have the means, the guarantee, of having an heir. Marriage is supposed to be that guarantee."

"But—you _do_ have an heir. So can't you get the house, anyway?"

Draco shook his head. "I know that's what that bit of the contract means because I know my father. But it specifically says marriage, and I can't get around that. Not unless my father legally changes the wording."

"So can't he come back for five minutes and _do_ that?" Ginny said crossly.

Draco shot her an amused glance. "I hardly think he would risk his freedom to do so."

"Bloody inconsiderate of him," Ginny grumbled.

Draco shrugged. For a moment, there was silence between them, as Ginny sulked and Draco eyed her speculatively. Maybe…but, no. That would be ridiculous, and Ginny would never agree to it, anyway.

"Well, anyway, Pansy _is_ close," Ginny repeated. "So, see? That would be a plus. You can go shack up with her anytime you start going stir-crazy in this place."

"Which will probably be often," Draco agreed, "seeing as this is a _Muggle_ flat."

"Oh, so what?" Ginny said, a trace of irritation coloring her words. "It comes cheaply, more cheaply than some of the wizarding places I've seen. _Those_ prices are just ridiculous. This place, on the other hand, is really very nice, considering the amount they're asking for it. And besides, Muggle living has its perks."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"

"Like…we could get a T.V."

"A huh?"

Ginny turned an incredulous stare on him. "Oh. No. You have got be _joking_. I mean, I'm sure you didn't take Muggle Studies, and, yes, all right, you didn't have a father who was obsessed with all things Muggle, nor did you ever probably associate with anyone connected to Muggles at all, but…you've never heard of a _television_ before?"

"No," Draco said flatly. "And if it's a Muggle contraption, then I've no desire to have one."

"I think you'll change your mind about that," Ginny muttered.

"We'll have to pay extra to get the Floo connected to the fireplace," Draco pointed out, thinking that if, perhaps, he seized on her endless frugality, she could be talked out of this. "Whereas, we wouldn't have to in a _normal_ flat."

"Yes, well, it would still be cheaper than renting one of those _normal_ flats." Ginny frowned at his terminology. "Honestly, the price they were asking for those flats was ludicrous…but if it _really_ makes you happy, we can look at them as well."

Which then had Draco regretting that he'd mentioned those flats at all.

They spent the rest of the morning and part of the afternoon looking at more places Ginny had found. Four flats later—two wizarding, and two Muggle—Ginny suggested they head back to Bill and Fleur's place for lunch, even though there was one last place she wanted to show him. Draco was starving, and sick of looking at flats at all, so he agreed.

When they arrived at Shell Cottage, it was to find Will playing in the living room, with Bill Weasley sitting at the table, keeping an eye on him. "Bill!" Ginny said in surprise, when they entered the house. "I thought you were working today?"

Bill shook his head. "Nope, they didn't need me after all." He glanced away from his sister to spare Draco a cool glance. "Malfoy."

"Weasley," Draco said indifferently.

Ginny walked into the kitchen, but not before Draco caught her eye roll at the two of them.

"Dada!" When Draco stepped into the living room, Will's face lit up. He did not, however, step away from the toy he was playing with; he appeared too intensely concentrated on it.

"Hey, Will." Smiling, Draco lowered himself onto the sofa, sitting with Will at his feet. Draco had only just finished up at the manor with the Ministry officials a couple of days ago, and as he had spent most of his immediate time afterwards catching up on his sleep, he had not spent much time with his son at all recently.

Though he was very engrossed in his toy, Will glanced up when his father sat down beside him and, almost as though to make up for his distraction, he picked up one of his storybooks and held it out to his father. "Book?"

"Thank you," Draco said very seriously, taking it from him. "Want me to read it to you?"

Will looked at him in some confusion.

"I can read it to you," Draco repeated, speaking more slowly, and gesturing with the book. "Do you want me to read it to you?"

Will seemed to understand this time. "No," he said, turning back to his toy.

"Fine," Draco grumbled to himself, sitting back in the sofa.

"Where's Fleur at?" Ginny asked from the kitchen, addressing her brother. "And Victoire?"

"Victoire's napping," Bill said, "and so is Fleur. She had a headache."

"Oh, that's too bad." Ginny frowned. "Well, we're going to head out to look at one last place after we eat, so is it all right if Will stays here? He'll probably be ready for a nap soon, himself."

"Sure, Gin, it's not a problem."

After quickly eating a sandwich, Bill went upstairs to check on Fleur and his daughter, leaving Will, Ginny, and Draco alone as they finished their food and prepared to leave. Ginny cleaned up the kitchen, while Draco took Will upstairs and put him to sleep for an afternoon nap. He was on his way back, passing through the foyer, when he spotted a stack of post sitting on the front table. He wouldn't have given it another thought, had he not recognized Ginny's name on the second envelope, sticking out from beneath the first. When he pulled it out, puzzled, to look at it, he received an even greater shock at the return addressee's name.

_Hermione Granger._

Draco's eyes widened. Before he even knew what he was doing, he turned over the envelope, which was already torn open. He pulled out the folded-up parchment inside and quickly scanned its contents.

_Dear Ginny,_

Well. What to say to a friend you walked out on a year ago? I'm so sorry about leaving like that, Ginny. But with everything that had happened…it was too much. I needed to get away from it all. I hope you understand, and I hope I haven't caused you or your family too much grief. Especially your mum.

I can't tell you where I am, but I'm safe. Please don't try to look for me, Ginny, it's really too dangerous, and I'm actually very happy where I am, for the most part. I hope you're well, and I'll try to get more word to you later.

Love,  
Hermione

"Malfoy!"

Draco dropped the letter with a guilty start, and turned to find Ginny staring at him in open-mouthed shock. "What are you _doing?_ Don't read that!" She rushed over to snatch up the letter from the table. "Did you read it?" she demanded, accusation drenching her every word.

"Well—it's from Granger."

"So?" Ginny snapped.

"So, we're…" Draco shrugged lamely "…old school friends."

Ginny snorted in disgust. "Oh, right," she said sarcastically. "Honestly, Malfoy, you can't just go around reading other people's mail!"

"Maybe you shouldn't leave it lying around in the open, then," Draco said pointedly. "I mean, anyone here could have seen it. And I kind of got the impression that Granger didn't want too many people hearing about where she's at."

"She didn't say where she's at." Ginny frowned. "Although you're probably right; I don't think she wants the rest of my family reading this."

"So burn it," Draco suggested.

Ginny scowled. "What do you care, anyway? Old school friends," she muttered, shaking her head. "Well, you're not going to tell anyone, are you?"

"And who would I tell?" Draco rolled his eyes. "Better question, _why?_"

Ginny huffed, but she said no more on the matter. After rushing upstairs to hide the letter away, the two of them left. Ginny was rather vague about this next place they were visiting, though apparently, it was in London. They Flooed to the Leaky Cauldron and then stepped out into Muggle London, where Ginny had them catch a taxi.

"Where is this place?" Draco grumbled, on the way there. "I suppose it's another Muggle flat?"

"Will you watch what you say?" Ginny hissed, darting a glance at the taxi driver. "And, no, it's not, as a matter of fact. You'll see when we get there."

Sullenly, Draco glanced out the window, and they spent the rest of the drive in silence, until they reached their destination.

Draco frowned as he stepped out of the taxi, glancing around his surroundings in confused suspicion, while Ginny paid the driver. "Where are we?" he demanded. This neighborhood looked far too nice, far too wealthy, to have any kind of flat they could afford. Though they were still in the city, they were in one of the more suburban areas, which he could tell by the large and well-built houses lining the street, one after another.

Ginny did not answer his question. "C'mon, it's just down the block," she said, heading down the street. Perplexed, Draco followed her. He couldn't help but notice that the houses grew larger and more lavish the further down they went, as well as became less uniform. Then the block across the street from them ended, opening out into a large expanse of green lawn. Draco was so captivated by the lush grass, in the middle of the city, that he didn't notice when Ginny came to a halt. With an "_oomph_," he bumped into her. She only smiled, however, and swept an arm out. "We're here," she announced.

Draco followed her line of sight and gaped. The place she was indicating was not a flat of any kind. No, it was a huge, dazzling white, Victorian-styled townhouse. It sat on the corner of the street they were on, wrapping around far behind, making it somehow even larger. It was a moment before Draco realized this house looked familiar, and a moment later before he realized why.

"This is the house," he said hoarsely.

Ginny raised an eyebrow.

"This is _my_ house," he clarified. "My house that is _not_ my house."

"Yes." Ginny beamed. "Yes, it is. Do you want to go inside?"

Draco scowled. "Weasley," he reiterated, just in case she'd missed it the first several times he'd told her, "I didn't get the house."

"I know." Ginny rolled her eyes, tapping her foot impatiently. "But I looked into it anyway, and I pulled in a few favors around the Ministry, and we now have the place to ourselves, for the afternoon. I mean—" She stepped ahead of him, practically skipping up the steps to the front door "—it will be yours _someday_, so what's the harm in checking it out now?"

Draco followed behind her more slowly. As Ginny unlocked the front door, he glanced aside and saw a woman, a well-dressed woman, standing on the front steps of the townhouse next door. She was openly gaping at them. Draco frowned, turning back to Ginny. "Muggles can see this place?"

"Well, of course they can, Malfoy, it's out here for everyone to see."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "So is Hogwarts. Doesn't mean Muggles can see it."

"Well, it's got enchantments on it, from what I understand." Ginny shrugged, opening the door and stepping inside. "You know, so Muggles can't get _in_ here, without invitation or instruction. But they can see it, yes, and—oh, wow." She blinked, breaking off as she took in her surroundings.

Draco was a little stunned as well. This house was not as big as the manor, and the furnishing fancy in a simpler, cleaner way, but it was still a very fine house. The entrance hall was open and light; the walls, the banister overlooking from the second floor, all a very pristine white. Ginny clapped her hands together in delight. "Now, I was raised in a much smaller house than this—"

"I _know_, Weasley," Draco muttered. "Merlin, don't I know."

"—so I don't really need much space, or anything fancy—" She smiled a brilliant smile "—but this is spectacular." Without further words or even a glance for Draco, she took off down the main corridor to explore.

Draco followed her dutifully, taking in the house curiously. After checking out several of the rooms that led off from the main corridor, they ended up in the back of the house, which boasted a beautiful conservatory and a very large terrace, with plenty of sunshine spilling in to give the whole place a natural glow. Ginny sighed contentedly. "I love it."

"It's not mine," Draco pointed out again.

"I _know_, Malfoy." Ginny turned to him with a glare. "But it will be, eventually."

"What makes you say that?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow.

She shrugged. "You yourself said, it was all in the wording. You'll find some way around those stupid stipulations, some way to get the house. And if not—" She smiled impishly "—you can just marry Pansy. I'm sure she won't mind."

"Not bloody likely." Draco shuddered.

"Look, all I'm saying is, this place is sitting here, with no one to live in it. They can't give it to anyone else, because it _is_ yours, technically. So you will get it, eventually. You have to."

Draco glanced around, feeling almost wistful. "What if I don't want to?"

Ginny's jaw dropped. "Why wouldn't you? It's gorgeous!"

"It's different," Draco corrected her. "It's…" He struggled to put his feeling to words. "Look, I know you hated the manor, Weasley, and, all right, I suppose it was a bit creepy. Sort of. But it was my home." He shrugged helplessly. "It was the only home I ever had."

"Yes." Ginny folded her arms across her chest. "But then, you probably never expected you'd be living with me, did you?"

Draco blinked. " I suppose not."

"Then get used to it," she said lightly, "because this can be your new home, if you let it be." She sobered then, looking at him very seriously, and he knew her flippancy was only because she was trying to make him feel better, and not because she was making fun of him. "I know it's different, Malfoy. It's different for me, too. But that doesn't necessarily have to be a bad thing."

And she was right, Draco knew. Because Ginny Weasley was certainly different from anything he had ever expected for his life—she was _better_ than anything he had ever expected for his life. Still, he didn't have to let her know that. So he summoned a familiar scowl and said, "It's still different."

Ginny pursed her lips, tilting her head to the side as she looked at him. "So…you're not even the _least_ bit interested in seeing the rest of the house?"

Draco shrugged.

"Because," she continued, "I'm really very curious to see more of it." Her eyes widened innocently, which of course made her look more devilish and appealing all at once. "Particularly…the master suite. Particularly the bedroom."

Draco's eyebrow shot up.

"But you're not interested," Ginny sighed, making as though to turn away from him. "So, I guess—"

"You—" Draco grabbed her by the wrist, spinning her around to face him "—are a conniving little tart."

Ginny smiled smugly, leaning in closer to him. "Yes. I am."

"Good, I'm glad you admit it." Draco raised his hand, brushing his fingers across her cheek. "Because I like you that way."

And when he leaned in to kiss her, everything else vanished. His worries about their living arrangements, his father, the secrets he was keeping—it all faded away. Because all that really mattered, he knew, was that he had his family with him—and somehow, unbelievably, inconceivably, inexplicably, that family was Ginny Weasley.

- - - - -

**Author's Notes:**

Because a few people seem to be freaking out a little, on other sites where I've posted: OF COURSE the sequel is going to deal with the question of, are they going to get married/are they going to get the house. That's why that was set up at the end here. That whole issue will be addressed in the first couple of chapters in the sequel.

So, the end! Keep a lookout for the sequel. It picks up about a year or two after the end of this fic, and it will bring the return of some of the characters that fell off the map in this story *hint hint*. Not to mention, the first couple of chapters will reveal the secrets that both Ginny and Draco are hiding.

Thanks again to all readers and reviewers! I hope you enjoyed the story.


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